THE  CA  RE  OF  the  PERSQH, 
MANNERS,  ^ 

ETIQUETTE, 

AM) 

CEREMONIALS. 


THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  ILLINOIS 
LIBRARY 


T^eb 


V.  .’? 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2017  with  funding  from 

University  of  Illinois  Urbana-Champaign  Alternates 


https://archive.org/details/bazarbookofdecorOOtome 


THE  BAZAR  BOOK 


OF 

DECORUM. 


THE  CARE  OF  THE  PERSON, 
MANNERS, 

ETIQUETTE, 

and 

CEREMONIALS. 


“ Those  thousand  decencies  that  daily  flow 
From  all  her  words  and  actions.” 

Milton. 


NEW  YORK: 

HARPER  & BROTHERS,  PUBLISHERS, 

FRANKLIN  SQUARE. 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1870,  by 
Harper  & Brothers, 

In  the  Clerk’s  Ofiice  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States  foj  the 
Southern  District  of  New  York, 


r<1lr 


Iff; 


PREFACE. 


This  book  is  an  attempt  to  raise  the  subject 
of  which  it  treats  to  its  proper  connection  with 
health,  morals,  and  good  taste. 

The  title  is  due  to  the  fact  that  the  author 
has  embodied  in  the  text  several  articles  which 
w^ere  originally  published  by  him  in  Harjperh 
Bazar.  These,  though  they  form  but  a small 
portio*h  of  the  wdiole  work,  may  be  recognized 
by  some  of  the  many  readers  of  that  popular 
periodical;  if  so,  it  is  hoped  that  they  will  be 
thought  of  sufficient  value  to  justify  their  re- 
production in  the  present  form. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

Ceremonial  Observances  founded  on  Common  Sense. — The 
peculiar  Necessity  for  Americans  to  cultivate  Politeness. — 
Advantage  of  Politeness. — Duke  of  Marlborough... Page  9 

CHAPTER  II. 

The  Obligation  to  cultivate  Beauty. — Notions  of  Beauty. — 
Beauty  and  Health. — American  Looks. — Their  good  and 
bad  Qualities. — How  to  improve  the  Bad  and  preserve 
the  Good. — The  Skin 19 

CHAPTER  HI. 

Relation  of  Dress  to  Form. — The  Hair. — Dyes. — Gra^mess. 
— Hair-cutting. — Its  Effect. — The  Nose. — The  Eye. — 
Squinting. — Short-sightedness. — Eyebrows  and  Eyelash- 
es. — The  morbid  Phase  of  Fashion.  — Dark  - rimmed 
Eyes 31 


CHAPTER  IV. 

The  Ear. — How  to  make  it  beautiful. — Ear-wax. — Ear- 
pulling.— The  Mouth. — Its  Beauty  and  Ugliness. — The 
Proud  Muscle. — The  Tongue. — Tongue  - scraping. — The 
Teeth. — Proper  Management. — Use  of  Tobacco 45 


VI 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  V. 

The  Hand. — Its  Beauty  and  Utility. — IIow  to  beautify  the 
Hand. — Care  of  the  Nails. — Hang-nails. — Snapping  of  the 
Fingers. — Dangers  of  the  Practice. — Warts. — Sweating 
of  the  Hands. — The  Foot. — The  proper  Form  of  the  Shoe. 
— The  Defects  of  the  fashionable  Shoe. — Corns. — Bun* 
ions.  — Ingrowth  of  the  Nail. — A terrific  Operation. — • 
Sweating  of  the  Feet Page  60 

CHAPTER  VI. 

The  Power  of  Expression  and  Action. — Freedom  and  Grace. 
— A Talleyrand  and  a Rustic  Antinous. — Lord  Chester- 
field’s awkward  Man. — Too  much  Interference. — A whole- 
some Neglect. — L^gly  Tricks  of  Expression  and  Gesture. 
— A wriggling  Nose. — The  Success  of  ugly  Men. — Sub- 
mission to  the  Laws  of  Nature. — A modern  Beauty  con- 
fronted with  the  Venus  of  Milo. — Excessive  Fatness  and 
Thinness. — How  to  be  Cured. — Deformities  the  Result  of 
bad  Management  in  Childhood. — Dancing. — Proper  Ex- 
ercise.— Mind  and  Body. — Freedom  from  Restraint...  73 

CHAPTER  VII. 

American  Ease. — Propriety  of  Posture. — A well-bred  Person 
not  Demonstrative. — Fuss. — Its  Discomforts  and  Indeco- 
rousness.— The  Free  and  Easy. — The  Prim. — Fault  of  the 
American  Walk. — Inelegant  Attitudes  and  Gestures...  96 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

The  Expression. — How  far  Involuntary. — Laughter. — Its 
Propriety.  — Its  Advantages.  — Blushing.  — Shamefaced- 
ness.— Hawthorne  in  Company. — Great  Men,  Men  of  So- 
ciety.— The  Disguises  of  Age. — Too  much  Hair.  — Hair- 
dressing.— Misuse  of  the  Nose. — Artificial  Odors 104 


CONTENTS. 


vii 


CHAPTER  IX. 

Discreet  Use  of  the  E3’e. — Eamiliar  Glances. —The  Fashion 
of  E\"c  - glasses. — Fast  Girls. — Winking.— Sleeping  in 
Company. — The  Somnolence  of  Washington  Irving.—-* 
Ear-boring. — Its  Crueltj^  and  Barbarism Page  116 

CHAPTER  X. 

Purity  of  Speech. — Effect  of  refined  Association.— 'Exagger- 
ation  of  American  Talk. — Fashionable  Falsehood  — Plain 
Speaking. — Prudishness  of  Speech 127 

CHAPTER  XI. 

The  Defects  of  the  American  Voice. — Their  Cause. — Ugly 
Noises  with  the  Mouth. — Decency  of  Motion. — Attitudin- 
izing.— Affected  Women. — Ugly  Tricks. — Hand-shaking. 
— Democratic  Intrusiveness. — American  Publicity. — The 
Impertinence  of  British  Loyalty. — Salutations. — Care  of 
the  Hands  and  Nails 138 

CHAPTER  XII. 

Effect  of  Civilization  on  Dress. — The  opposite  Progress  of 
Man  and  Woman  in  the  Art  of  Dressing. — The  true  Rule 
of  Dress. — Uniformity  of  Dress  in  America. — Inappropri- 
ateness of  Dress. — Sunday-best 155 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

Superfinery  of  Dress. — Overdressed  Women. — Slatterns  at 
Home.  — Hygiene  of  Dress. — Child-hardening. — Its  Cruelty 
and  Folly. — Stove-pipe  Hats  and  Dress-coats 170 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

Food. — Importance  of  the  Manner  of  eating  Food. — The 


Vlll 


CONTENTS. 


Decency  of  Feeding. — Its  Effect  on  Health  and  Appetite., 
— Chatted  Food. — Dainty  Feeders Page  183 

CHAPTER  XY. 

Etiquette  of  the  Breakfast. — Etiquette  of  the  Luncheon.— 
Etiquette  of  the  Dinner 195 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

Etiquette  of  the  Dinner  (^continued). — After  Dinner 212 

CHAPTER  XYII. 

Ancient  and  Modern  Hospitality. — Etiquette  of  the  Evening 
Party  and  Ball. — The  Effect  of  late  Parties. — Manners 
and  Morals. — Treatment  of  Servants 223 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 

Visiting  Lists. — Report  of  the  Proceedings  of  a Morning 
Visit. — Etiquette  of  Visits  and  Cards. — New-Year’s  Visits. 
— At  Home,  or  not  at  Home  ? — P.  P.  C 235 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

American  Titles. — Proper  Forms  of  Address. — The  Use  of 


the  “Sir”  and  “Madam.” — Professional  Titles. — How  to 
address  Letters. — Esq. — Female  Titles. — Nicknames. — 
Introductions. — Letters  of  Introduction. — Presentations 
to  Court. — Visits  to  the  President 243 


CHAPTER  XX. 

Births  and  Christenings. — Giving  of  Names. — Presents. — 
Visits.  — Caudle  Parties.  — Etiquette  and  Ceremony  of 
Marriages. — At  Church. — In  the  House. — Death. — Fu- 
neral Ceremonies. — Appendix 255 


THE 


BAZAR  BOOK  OF  DECORUM. 


CHAPTER  I. 

Ceremonial  Observances  founded  on  Common  Sense. — Tho 
peculiar  Necessity  for  Americans  to  cultivate  Politeness, — 
Advantage  of  Politeness. — Duke  of  Marlborough. 

It  is  quite  a mistake  to  suppose  that  the  cere- 
monial observances  of  society  are  merely  a set 
of  edicts  arbitrarily  established  by  the  capricious 
tyrant,  Fashion,  for  the  government  only  of  her 
slavish  subjects.  Polite  conduct  is  not  neces- 
sarily more  exclusive  than  correct  speaking. 
The  laws  of  the  one  are  indeed,  like  those  of  tho 
other,  founded  upon  the  usage  of  the  refined 
few,  but  there  is  no  better  reason  why  these 
should  enjoy  a monopoly  of  good  manners  than 
of  good  grammar.  There  are  many,  however, 
who  seem  to  think  that  social  ceremonies  are  so 
many  frivolous  affectations  by  which  the  wealthy 
or  fashionable  strive  to  raise  themselves  to  a fac- 


10  COI^IMON  SENSE  OF  ETIQUETTE. 

titious  elevation  above  others,  and  consequently 
refuse  all  observance  of  them  with  scorn.  It  is 
an  unfortunate  thing  for  general  culture  when 
the  many  acquire  such  a prejudice  against  the 
few  that  in  their  aversion  to  their  pretentious 
superiority  they  reject  their  real  excellence. 
The  small  class  of  the  rich  and  refined  have 
time  to  cultivate  the  elegancies  of  life;  and  al- 
though, in  the  excess  of  their  leisure,  they  super- 
add a variety  of  frivolous  ceremonies,  their  ex- 
ample in  what  is  practically  useful  should  be 
followed.  Wesley  used  to  say,  when  advocat- 
ing the  adaptation  of  the  music  of  the  opera  and 
theatre  to  the  sacred  songs  of  the  Church,  that 
he  did  not  know  why  the  devil  should  have  all 
the  best  tunes.  We  may  ask,  with  equal  reason, 
why  Fashion  should  have  all  the  good  manners. 

It  would  be  easy  to  show  tliat  many  ceremo- 
nious observances  which  appear  at  first  sight 
frivolous  are  founded  upon  a solid  basis  of  com- 
mon sense.  Consider,  for  example,  that  rule  of 
the  dinner-table.  Do  not  ask  twice  for  soup. 
This  appears  at  first  sight  both  silly  and  arbi- 
trary. It  is,  however,  a very  sensible  ordinance, 
and  is  to  be  justified  by  the  laws  of  health,  and 
the  general  comfort  and  convenience.  The  soup, 
being  a fluid  substance,  can  easily  be  absorbed 
in  small  quantities,  and,  thus  taken,  is  a good 


REASONS  FOR  CEREMONY. 


11 


preparative  for  the  solidities  of  the  dinner.  If, 
however,  the  stomach  is  deluged  with  it,  the  ap- 
petite and  digestion  become  weakened,  and  there 
is  neither  the  inclination  to  eat  nor  the  power  to 
digest  the  more  substantial  food  essential  to  the 
due  nutrition  of  the  body.  As  for  the  conven- 
ience or  comfort  of  the  single-plate  rule,  no  one 
can  deny  it  wdio  has  ever  looked  upon  an  array 
of  hungry  guests  whose  eager  appetite  for  the 
coming  roast  has  been  forced  to  an  impatient 
delay  by  some  social  monster  capable  of  asking 
twice  for  soup.  The  cook  in  the  mean  time  is, 
of  course,  thrown  out  in  his  calculations,  and  the 
dish,  when  it  does  come  at  last,  is  either  spoiled 
by  overcooking,  or  cold  from  being  withdrawn 
so  long  from  the  fire.  The  guests  thus  are  not 
only  tried  in  temper  by  a protracted  expecta- 
tion, but  balked  of  their  anticipated  enjoyment. 

The  advantage  of  not  putting  the  knife  in  the 
mouth  will  be  obvious,  we  suppose,  to  all  who 
are  conscious  that  the  one  can  cut  and  the  other 
is  capable  of  being  cut.  There  is  an  excellent 
chemical  reason  for  that  other  table  rule  which 
forbids  the  use  of  a knife  of  steel  with  the  fish, 
the  ordinary  sauces  of  which  combine  with  the 
metal,  and  produce  a composition  neither  whole- 
some nor  appetizing. 

All  that  is  worth  borrowing  from  the  fashion- 


12  THE  NECESSITY  OF  GOOD  MANNERS. 

able  code  can  be  had  without  much  additional 
cost  either  of  time  or  money.  For  example,  a 
table  can  be  well  set  as  expeditiously  and  with 
no  more  expense  than  if  every  article  upon  it 
was  placed  out  of  line  with  its  fellows.  There 
is  no  economy,  pecuniary  or  otherwise,  in  serv- 
ing a dish  to  the  right  instead  of  the  left  of  the 
guest,  while  the  latter  has  the  advantage  not 
only  of  being  the  correct  thing,  but  the  most 
convenient.  So,  too,  there  can  be  no  minutes 
saved  from  the  dinner-hour  by  gorging  the  stom- 
ach with  pie  or  pudding  in  advance  of  the  beef 
and  cabbage,  while  there  is  the  very  serious 
waste  of  appetite  upon  the  less  nutritious  food. 

The  great  purpose  of  the  rules  of  etiquette  is 
to  inculcate  good  manners,  and  thus  render  us 
mutually  agreeable.  It  is,  therefore,  especially 
incumbent  upon  all  Americans  to  know  and 
obey  them,  for  it  is  impossible  for  us  to  avoid 
contact.  We  are  all  forced,  in  spite  of  individ- 
ual objections  and  protests,  to  put  into  practice 
the  national  theory  of  equality.  We  must  mix 
together,  and  it  therefore  behooves  us,  for  our 
own  comfort,  to  make  the  mixture  as  smooth 
and  uniform  as  possible. 

In  no  country  in  the  world  are  general  good 
manners  so  indispensable  as  in  this  democratic 
country.  In  Europe,  where,  in  society  as  at  the 


DEMOCRACY  OF  GOOD  MANNERS. 


13 


railway  stations,  different  classes  are  recognized 
and  kept  apart  by  insurmountable  barriers  and 
vigilant  guards,  it  is  possible,  if  you  happen  to 
be  among  the  high-bred  “ firsts”  or  decent  ‘‘  sec- 
onds,” to  endure  the  existence  of  the  unruly 
“ thirds.”  These  last,  in  fact,  when  viewed  at  a 
convenient  remoteness  of  distance,  are  not  with- 
out their  interest.  Their  unkempt  hair,  botched 
and  greasy  suits,  rude  manners,  and  coarse  ver- 
nacular, are  parts  of  the  European  picture,  and 
by  their  own  homely  raciness,  as  well  as  the  con- 
trast they  afford  to  the  brilliancy  of  their  supe- 
riors, seem  essential  to  its  effect.  To  look  at  a 
rough  and  unwashed  from  the  safe  distance  of 
European  social  distinction,  by  which  he  is  toned 
down  to  the  picturesqueness  of  one  of  Murillo’s 
lousy  beggar-boys,  is  one  thing ; it  is  quite  an- 
other, however,  to  have  him  at  your  elbow  on 
railway  and  at  hotel,  where  you  can  hear,  feel, 
and  smell  him.  It  is  obvious,  therefore,  that  the 
rough  and  dirty  are  quite  out  of  place  in  this 
country,  Avhere,  if  they  exist,  they  are  sure  to  be 
close  at  your  side.  Universal  cleanliness  and 
good  manners  are  essential  to  a democracy. 
This  must  be  generally  recognized  and  acted 
upon,  or  the  refined  will  seek  in  other  countries 
the  exclusiveness  which  will  secure  for  them  that 
nicety  of  life  essential  to  its  enjoyment,  and  we 


14 


KUDENESS  NOT  ESSENTIAL. 


shall  be  left  alone  to  wallow  in  our  own  brutal- 
ity and  foulness. 

There  is  no  reason  why  propriety  of  manners 
should  not  be  as  general  in  the  United  States  as 
it  is  exclusive  in  most  countries.  With  our  fa- 
cility of  mixture,  any  leaven  we  have  can  be  eas^ 
ily  made  to  pervade  the  whole  mass.  There  is 
no  vested  right,  in  this  country  at  least,  in  de- 
cency and  cleanliness.  We  can  all  be,  if  we 
please,  what  we  are  so  fond  of  calling  ourselves, 
gentlemen  and  ladies. 

There  is,  however,  an  idea  somewhat  preva- 
lent, especially  among  our  newly-arrived  Demo- 
crats, that  it  is  an  essential  principle  of  democra- 
cy to  be  rude  and  dirty.  They  forget  that  they 
are  no  longer,  in  this  country,  as  they  might  have 
been  in  their  own,  in  an  antagonistic  position  to 
every  cleanly  and  polite  person.  A man  who 
has  his  shoes  blacked  and  takes  his  hat  off  to  a 
lady  is  not  in  the  United  States  necessarily  an 
aristocrat.  It  is  this  erroneous  notion,  which  we 
venture  to  say  is  an  imported  one,  that  decency 
of  person  and  manners  must  be  associated  with 
aristocracy,  which  keeps  us  still  supplied  with  so 
many  of  the  rough  and  dirty  sort.  Not  a few 
of  our  public  men  are  responsible  for  the  encour- 
agement of  this  vulgar  faith  in  democratic  foul- 
ness, They  affect  a carelessness  of  dress  and 


PROFIT  OF  GOOD  MANNERG. 


15 


coarseness  of  talk  and  manners  with  the  idea 
that  they  thus  assimilate  and  make  themselves 
more  acceptable  to  the  multitude.  We  doubt, 
however,  the  success  of  an  expedient  which  is 
any  thing  but  a compliment  to  even  the  rudest 
and  dirtiest.  We  were  once  a witness  to  a sig- 
nal failure  of  a political  orator  who  ventured  to 
try  this  kind  of  tactics  upon  a New  England 
audience.  “ I have  not  come,”  he  said,  to  be 
received  with  any  ceremonious  attention,  but  to 
take  a drink  and  a chaw^  of  tobacco  with  you.” 
This  might  have  gone  down  in  Slum  Hall  of  his 
native  city,  where  he  was  wont  to  stir  the  ‘^fierce 
democracy,”  but  his  audience  of  Puritan  decency, 
and  sobriety  would  have  been  less  shocked  by 
the  dash  of  a genuine  bucket  of  cold  water  than 
by  this  vulgar  suggestion  of  the  groggery. 

Philosophers  and  men  of  the  world  are  alike 
of  the  opinion  that  propriety  of  manners  is  to  be 
commended,  not  only  for  its  own  sake,  but  for 
the  social  advantage  it  gives.  Locke,  in  his 
celebrated  treatise,  makes  good  breeding,  by 
which  he  means  refined  behavior,  an  essential 
element  of  the  characte::  of  the  well  educated 
Lord  Chesterfield  rates  so  highly  the  graces,  as 
he  terras  them,  that  he  seems  to  give  them  a 
value  beyond  that  of  the  virtues.  It  appears 
* Provincialism  for  “ quid”  or  “ cud.” 


16 


DUKE  OF  MARLBOKOUGH. 


that  his  lordship  would  have  much  jDreferred  his 
son,  whom  he  strove  so  hard,  but  vainly,  to  en^ 
dow  with  all  the  graces,  to  be  an  elegant  rogue 
than  an  honest  lout.  He  evidently  thought  that 
refinement  of  manners  did  more  to  gain  the 
whole  world,  and  was  therefore  more  desirable, 
for  he  took  little  account  of  the  possibility  of 
the  loss  of  a soul,  than  obedience  to  the  twelve 
commandments.  He  certainly  gives  a remark- 
able example  of  its  power.  “ Of  all  the  men 
that  ever  I knew  in  my  life  (and  I knew  him  ex- 
tremely well),  the  late  Duke  of  Marlborough,” 
says  he,  “preserved  the  graces  in  the  highest 
-degree,  not  to  say  engrossed  them ; and,  indeed, 
he  got  the  most  by  them,  for  I will  venture  (con- 
trary to  the  custom  of  profound  historians,  who 
always  assign  deep  causes  for  great  events)  to 
ascribe  the  better  half  of  the  Duke  of  Marlbor- 
ough’s greatness  and  richness  to  those  graceso 
He  was  eminently  illiterate ; wrote  bad  English, 
and  spelled  it  still  worse.  He  had  no  share  of 
what  is  commonly  Q^iWedi  parts  ; that  is,  he  had 
no  brightness,  nothing  shining  in  his  genius.  He 
had,  most  undoubtedly,  an  excellent  good  j)lain 
understanding,  Avith  sound  judgment ; but  these 
alone  Avould  probably  have  raised  him  but  some- 
thing higher  than  they  found  him,  Avhich  Avas 
page  to  King  James  the  Second’s  queen.  There 


THE  CHARM  OF  THE  DUKE, 


17 


the  graces  protected  and  promoted  him ; for, 
while  he  was  an  ensign  of  the  Guards,  the  Duch- 
ess of  Cleveland,  then  favorite  mistress  to  King 
Charles  the  Second,  struck  by  those  very  graces, 
gave  him  five  thousand  pounds,  with  which  he 
immediately  bought  an  annuity  for  his  life,  of 
five  hundred  pounds  a year,  of  my  grandfather, 
Halifax,  which  Avas  the  foundation  of  his  subse- 
quent fortune.  His  figure  was  beautiful,  but  his 
manner  was  irresistible  by  either  man  or  Avoman. 
It  was  by  this  engaging,  graceful  manner  that 
he  Avas  enabled,  during  all  his  Avar,  to  connect 
the  A^arious  and  jarring  poAvers  of  the  Grand  Al- 
liance, and  to  carry  them  on  to  the  main  object 
of  the  Avar,  not  Avithstanding  their  private  and  sep- 
arate vieAVS,  jealousies,  and  Avrongheadednesses. 
Whatever  court  he  Avent  to  (and  he  Avas  often 
obliged  to  go  himself  to  some  testy  and  refrac- 
tory ones),  he  as  constantly  prevailed  and  brought 
them  into  his  measures.  The  Pensionary  Hein- 
sius,  a venerable  old  minister,  groAvn  gray  in 
business,  and  who  had  governed  the  Republic 
of  the  United  Provinces  for  more  than  forty 
years,  Avas  absolutely  governed  by  the  Duke  of 
Marlborough,  as  that  republic  feels  to  this  day. 
He  Avas  always  cool,  and  nobody  ever  observed 
the  least  variation  in  his  countenance.  He  could 
refuse  more  gracefully  than  other  people  could 
B 


18  A GREAT  EXEMPLAR  UNNECESSARY. 


grant,  and  those  who  went  away  from  him  the 
most  dissatisfied  as  to  the  substance  of  their 
business,  were  yet  charmed  with  him,  and  in 
some  degree  comforted  by  his  manner.  With 
all  his  gentleness  and  gracefulness,  no  man  living 
was  more  conscious  of  his  situation,  nor  main- 
tained his  dignity  better.” 

It  w^as  hardly  necessary,  however,  to  evoke 
from  the  shades  of  history  so  grave  an  exemplar 
of  the  graces  as  the  great  victor  of  Blenheim  to 
inculcate  the  necessity  in  these  days  of  attention 
to  the  refined  civilities  of  life.  These  have  be- 
come so  general,  and  so  essential  to  the  conduct 
of  society,  that  no  shop-boy  or  kitchen-maid  is 
either  entirely  ignorant  of,  or  ventures  wholly  to 
disregard  them. 


SOCIAL  OBLIGATION  OF  BEAUTY. 


19 


CHAPTER  II. 

Tha  Obligation  to  cultivate  Beauty. — Notions  of  Beauty. — 
Beauty  and  Health. — American  Looks. — Their  good  and 
bad  Qualities. — How  to  improve  the  Bad  and  preserve 
the  Good, — The  Skin. 

Though  we  may  not  give  full  assent  to  Mad- 
ame de  Pompadour’s  dictum  that  the  chief  duty 
of  woman  is  to  be  beautiful,  we  do  not  hesitate 
to  confess  the  opinion  that  it  is  a social  obliga- 
tion not  only  of  her  sex,  but  that  of  the  male,  to 
make  the  best  possible  appearance.  A code  such 
as  that  of  good  manners,  which  recognizes  as  its 
main  purpose  to  render  us  mutually  agreeable, 
can  hardly  be  complete  if  it  does  not  contain 
rules  for  the  proper  management  of  the  person. 
It  would  seem  to  be  an  essential  part  of  polite- 
ness to  commend  ourselves  to  each  other  by  such 
a care  of  our  bodies  that  they  may  not  only  be 
free  from  offense,  but  a source  of  positive  pleas- 
ure to  those  with  whom  we  are  in  communion. 
We  ought  not  to  be  content  merely  with  having 
our  bodily  presence  endured,  but  should,  as  far 
as  it  lies  in  our  power,  make  ourselves  physically 
attractive.  We  so  far  agree,  then,  with  Madame 


20 


INDEFINITENESS  OF  BEAUTY. 


de  Pompadour  as  to  acknowledge  that  it  is  the 
duty  of  woman,  and  also  of  man,  to  be  beautiful 
if  they  can. 

It  is  a curious  fact  that  few  women  are  com- 
petent judges  of  what  is  essentially  a quality  of 
their  own — female  beauty.  It  is  not  easy  for 
any  one  to  define  it,  though  we  all  recognize  its 
presence.  It  depends  so  much  upon  expression 
and  action,  which  are  essentially  mobile,  that  it 
is  almost  impossible  to  grasp  and  fix  it  in  a def- 
inition. Many  have  taken  an  entirely  material- 
istic view  of  the  matter,  and  attempted  to  meas- 
ure it  by  the  arithmetic  of  proportion  or  weigh 
it  according  to  avoirdupois.  Brantome,  one  of 
the  most  decided  of  these,  has  the  presumption 
to  count  on  the  ends  of  his  fingers  the  qualities 
of  female  beauty,  as  if  they  were  so  many  points 
in  a fine  horse.  He  enumerates  them  thus : 

‘‘Three  white  things — the  skin,  teeth,  and  hands. 

Three  dark — the  eyes,  eyebrows,  and  eyelids. 

Three  red — the  lips,  cheeks,  and  nails. 

Three  long — the  body,  hair,  and  hands. 

Three  short — the  teeth,  ears,  and  feet. 

Three  broad — the  chest,  forehead,  and  space  between  the 
eyes,”  etc.,  etc.,  etc. 

Women  are  too  apt  to  regard  delicacy,  in  its 
physical  sense  of  weakness,  as  an  essential  ele- 
ment of  beauty.  This  is  a false  and  dangerous 
notion,  which  finds  expression  in  the  aifectation 


BEAUTY  AND  HEALTH. 


21 


of  paleness  of  complexion  and  tenuity  of  figure, 
which  are  deliberately  acquired  by  a systematic 
disobedience  of  the  laws  of  health.  No  unwhole- 
some person,  whatever  may  be  the  regularity  of 
her  features  and  the  fineness  of  her  mould,  can 
justly  claim  to  be  beautiful;  and  we  doubt 
whether  any  woman  who  cultivates  sickness 
jind  weakness  has  a sound  idea  of  the  value  of 
good  looks. 

There  can  be  no  beauty  without  health ; and 
it  might  also  be  said  that  there  can  not  be  health 
without  beauty.  Form,  color,  and  expression 
are  essentially  dependent  upon  the  soundness 
of  the  human  structure  for  their  attractiveness. 
The  grace  of  a justly-proportioned  stature  and 
well-moulded  limbs  can  only  be  the.  result  of 
wholesome  bone  and  flesh.  The  skeleton  must 
be  composed  of  a substance  in  which  certain 
mineral  and  animal  matters  are  mixed  in  fixed 
proportions,  or  it  will  neither  possess  the  flexi- 
bility nor  the  firmness  necessary  to  the  erectness 
combined  with  mobility  proper  to  the  human 
figure.  Too  much  or  too  little  of  either  ingre- 
dient not  only  indicates  disease,  but  is  fatal  to 
beauty  of  form.  Those  human  monsters  of 
dwarfed  proportions  and  devious  shape,  occa- 
sionally seen,  owe  their  ugliness  to  a want  of 
mineral  matter,  or  lime,  in  their  bones.  These, 


22 


FOEM  AND  BEAUTY. 


being  deficient  in  stiffness,  are  unable  to  resist 
the  wanton  action  of  the  muscles,  and  are  thus 
cramped,  twisted,  and  knotted  into  a tangled 
heap  of  deformity.  So  a too  meagre  supply  of 
animal  matter,  or  oil,  another  proof  of  disease, 
will  give  the  bony  frame  an  inflexibility  and 
brittleness  fatal  to  ease  and  grace  of  movement. 
This  unctuousness  is  apt  to  evaporate  with  the 
coming  of  disappointment,  the  exhaustion  of 
strength,  and  advance  of  time,  and  thus  the 
primness  of  the  old  maid  and  bachelor,  and  ri- 
gidity of  the  patriarch. 

The  contour  of  the  human  figure  derives  its 
principal  beauty  from  the  soft  parts  Avhich  cover 
and  are  contained  within  the  bony  frame.  The 
muscles  must  be  originally  endowed  with 
strength  and  continually  invigorated  by  exer- 
cise in  order  that  they  may  have  that  gradu- 
ated fullness  and  waviness  of  outline  essential 
to  a beautiful  form.  Spread  over  the  muscles, 
and  penetrating  between  them,  are  layers  of  fat 
and  cellular  tissue,  wdiich,  if  in  proper  quantity, 
contribute  not  a little  to  external  beauty.  Any 
excess  or  deficiency,  however,  will  be  sure  to  re- 
sult in  ugliness.  There  is  no  hope  of  the  prize 
of  beauty  being  adjudged  to  the  unduly  bloated 
or  collapsed  of  body,  whatever  may  be  the  force 
of  their  pretensions  in  other  respects.  Excessive 


THE  BLOOD  AND  BEAUTY. 


23 


fatness  or  thinness  is  not  only  a deviation  from 
the  lines  of  proportion,  but  from  the  laws  of 
health. 

The  lungs,  the  liver,  the  stomach,  and  entrails 
all  bear  a proportionate  share  in  giving  shape  to 
the  human  structure.  These  or  ans  must  have 
that  degree  of  development  essential  to  health 
in  order  to  fill  up  their  proper  places  in  the  con- 
tour of  the  human  form.  If  the  lungs  collapse 
from  want  of  exercise,  disease,  or  any  other 
cause,  the  chest  falls  in,  and  loses  the  arched  full- 
ness of  its  natural  beauty.  If  the  stomach,  liver, 
and  entrails  are,  by  excess  and  perverted  use, 
forced  into  undue  prominence,  there  results  that 
deviation  from  natural  proportion  the  most  fatal 
to  good  looks,  the  pot-belly. 

The  condition  of  the  blood  has  also  much  to 
do  Avith  human  beauty  or  ugliness.  This  fluid 
of  life  must  have  certain  ingredients,  and  those 
only  mixed  in  certain  proportions,  or  it  will  not 
have  the  qualities  essential  either  to  good  health 
or  looks.  A AA^ant  of  one  of  its  smaller  constitu- 
ents, iron,  Avill  deprive  the  blood  not  only  of  its 
strength,  but  its  color,  and  thus  the  person  in 
w^hose  veins  it  circulates  will  be  in  danger,  as  he 
Avill  have  the  pallor  of  death.  When  some  sub- 
stance gets  into  the  blood  which  should  not  be 
there,  it  not  only  poisons,  but  discolors  the  body. 


24 


THE  SKm  AND  BEAUTY. 


Thus,  in  a case  of  jaundice,  the  whole  skin  will 
be  stained  with  an  ugly  tint  varying  from  yel- 
low to  green. 

The  condition  of  the  skin,  which  is  the  en- 
velope of  the  whole  human  structure,  has  a won- 
derful influence  upon  the  external  aspect.  It  is, 
as  it  were,  the  atmosphere  which  surrounds  that 
microcosm,  or  little  world,  of  human  being — Man. 
Upon  its  purity  depends  greatly  the  look  of  ev- 
ery part  and  feature,  which  can  only  be  seen 
through  it.  If  the  skin  is  not  kept  in  a whole- 
some condition  by  a proper  diet  and  regimen, 
there  can  be  no  beauty.  A dingy  integument 
will  spoil  the  grace  of  proportion  and  delicacy 
of  line  of  the  most  regularly  cut  face  and  per- 
fectly moulded  form. 

It  is  useless  for  the  naturally  beautiful  to  at- 
tempt to  preserve  their  charms  while  neglecting 
the  care  of  their  health ; but  wholesomeness  is 
so  satisfactory  and  attractive  that  its  possessor 
needs  no  other  quality  to  secure  admiration  and 
happiness. 

Exercise  in  the  open  air,  regular  meals  of  nu- 
tritious food,  daily  bathing  in  cold  water,  and 
agreeable  and  systematic  occupation,  are  the 
main  requisites  for  giving  health,  strength,  and 
grace  to  the  human  body. 

The  chief  faults  of  the  American  person  are 


AMEKICAN  EEAUTY. 


25 


excessive  paleness  or  yellowness  of  complexion, 
and  thinness  of  structure.  It  is  common  for  for- 
eigners to  praise  our  people  for  their  good  looks, 
and  the  American  face  is  certainly  remarkable 
for  its  regularity.  It  seldom  presents  those  ex- 
traordinary deviations  from  the  classical  ideal  so 
frequently  observed  in  foreigners.  Those  mon- 
strous developments  of  the  features,  which  are 
not  seldom  found  in  the  German  or  Irish  coun- 
tenance, and  approximate  it  to  the  various  types 
of  the  lower  animals,  are  rare  among  native-born 
Americans.  As  people  of  all  nations  come  hith- 
er, we  have,  of  course,  every  kind  of  face.  There 
are,  accordingly,  all  varieties  of  disproportion 
and  degrees  of  ugliness  to  be  occasionally  seen. 
These,  such  as  the  low  heads  and  crumpled  faces 
which  look  as  if  they  had  been  squashed  in  the 
making;  the  nasal  appendages  fleshy  and  pend- 
ent. like  abortive  elephants’  trunks ; the  ears 
tumid  and  misshapen  as  gigantic  oysters;  the 
thick  lips,  eviscerated  mouths,  and  projecting 
under  jaws,  are  generally  of  foreign  importation. 

The  American  complexion  is  surpassed  in 
freshness  and  clearness  by  the  English  in  youth. 
Our  dry  atmosphere  is  unfavorable  both  to  the 
color  and  transparency  of  the  skin.  In  advanced 
age,  however,  we  have  decidedly  the  advantage. 
While  the  English  complexion  is  apt  to  become 


26 


THE  AMEEICAN  FACE. 


pimpled  and  blowsy,  and  seems  to  indicate  gross- 
ness and  overfeeding,  the  American,  with  the 
progress  of  time,  ripens  to  a mellow  ruddiness, 
which  harmonizes  well  with  gray  hairs,  and  the 
veneration  w^hich  is  due  to  them. 

The  American  face,  having  generally  but  little 
fat  or  cellular  tissue,  shrinks  readily  into  wrink- 
les, and  thus  we  are  supposed  to  wear  out  ear- 
lier than  we  do.  The  earnestness  and  activity 
of  mind  in  the  United  States  give  a concentra- 
tion to  the  expression  of  the  general  countenance, 
and  also  soon  furrow  it.  Compare  the  peasant 
face  of  Europe  with  that  of  the  working  peo- 
ple of  this  country.  The  former  appears  like  a 
mass  of  dough  rolled  into  a uniform  surface ; the 
latter  is  full  of  lines,  distinct  and  expressive  as 
those  of  a steel  engraving. 

The  pallidness  of  complexion  and  meagreness 
of  frame  which  are  characteristic  of  our  women 
may  be  partly  attributed  to  their  diet,  which  is 
ordinarily  not  sufficiently  generous  to  give  rud- 
diness of  color  and  fullness  of  flesh. 

Our  dames,  although  we  do  not  advise  them 
to  go  to  bed  nightly  on  a supper  of  Stilton  cheese 
and  London  stout  like  their  English  sisters, 
would,  we  believe,  improve  their  looks  if  they 
lived  better.  By  living  better  we  mean  feeding 
at  regular  intervals  upon  well-cooked,  nutritious 


GOOD  LIVING  FAVOEABLE  TO  BEAUTY.  27 

food,  instead  of  wasting  their  appetites  upon 
cakes,  sweets,  and  other  indigestible  articles, 
which  fill  the  stomach,  but  starve  the  body. 
Hear  v/hat  Brillat  Savarin  says  upon  the  efiects 
of  good  living : Gourmandise  is  favorable  to 
beauty.  A train  of  exact  and  rigid  observations 
have  demonstrated  that  a succulent,  delicate,  and 
careful  regimen  repels  to  a distance,  and  for  a 
length  of  time,  the  external  appearance  of  old 
age.  It  gives  more  brilliancy  to  the  eyes,  more 
freshness  to  the  skin,  more  support  to  the  mus- 
cles ; and  as  it  is  certain  in  physiology  that  it 
is  the  depression  of  the  muscles  which  causes 
wrinkles,  those  formidable  enemies  of  beauty,  it 
is  equally  true  to  say  that,  cmteris  paribus^  those 
who  understand  eating  are  comparatively  ten 
years  younger  than  those  who  are  strangers  to 
this  science.” 

The  necessity  of  frequent  bathing,  not  only 
for  the  preservation  of  health,  but  of  beauty,  is 
apparent  from  the  structure  and  functions  of  the 
skin.  This  is  divided  by  anatomists , into  two 
layers,  the  epidermis  and  dermis.  The  former 
is  the  most  external,  and  is  called  sometimes  the 
scarf-skin.  This  is  being  constantly  formed  anew, 
Avhile  the  old  gathers  upon  the  surface  in  heaps 
of  scales,  which  are  more  or  less  adherent.  If 
allowed  to  accumulate,  they  will  seriously  injure 


28 


CABE  OF  THE  SKIN. 


not  only  the  health  of  the  skin  itself,  but  that  of 
the  whole  body.  They  will  irritate  the  surface, 
producing  various  ugly  eruptions,  dull  the  sen- 
sibility, and  destroy  the  gloss,  flexibility,  and 
transparency  upon  which  the  beauty  of  the  com- 
plexion and  skin  especially  depend  These  will, 
moreover,  if  left  to  increase  and  harden,  so  close 
up  the  pores  as  to  hinder  the  transpiration  es- 
sential to  health  and  life. 

The  only  eflectual  means  of  getting  rid  of  these 
deposits  is  by  the  use  of  soap.  The  scales  of  the 
scarf-skin  are  composed  of  albumen,  the  same  as 
the  white  of  eggs,  and  this  is  soluble  in  what  the 
chemists  term  alkalies.  Now  soaps  of  all  kinds, 
containing  as  their  princij)al  constituent  potash 
or  soda^  which  are  chemically  described  as  alka- 
lies^ are,  according  to  science  as  well  as  experi- 
ence,, the  best  cleansers  of  the  skin,  for  they  dis- 
solve the  natural  scarf,  as  well  as  the  oil  which 
accumulates  upon  it.  Thus,  Avhile  removing  dirt 
from  the  body,  we  are  performing  at  the  same 
time  a function  necessary  to  health. 

It  is  said  of  a Frenchwoman  that  she  once  re- 
marked, How  strange  it  is  that  we  should  be 
always  w^ashing  our  hands,  when  we  never  wash 
our  feet  I""  It  is  to  be  hoped  that  this  strange- 
ness was  peculiar  to  herself  A no  less  remark- 
able fact,  however,  and  one  which  is  unquestion- 


EFFECT  OF  COSMETICS. 


29 


ably  so  general  as  to  justify  an  observation,  is 
the  limited  application  of  soap  to  the  human 
body.  Without  extending  our  inquiry  beyond 
the  face,  let  us  ask  how  many  fair  dames  ever 
apply  a lather  to  their  complexions?  Now  we 
advise  them  to  overturn  into  the  fire  all  their 
face-washes,  as  the  good  Vicar  of  Wakefield  did 
those  of  his  daughters,  and  to  betake  themselves 
to  soap.  The  best  kind  should  be  used,  such  as 
the  Avell-known  Windsor,  or  any  other  in  which 
the  alkali  is  not  too  abundant  or  strong.  The 
ordinary  cosmetics  and  artificial  washes  hide,  but 
do  not  cleanse  away  the  dirt,  and  are  apt,  more- 
over, to  mottle  the  complexion  with  brown  and 
yellow  spots, like  the  eyes  of  grease  in  an  ill- 
made  soup. 

Under  the  outer  covering,  or  .epidermis,  is  the 
thicker  dermis,  or  sensitive  skin.  The  ruddy 
color  observed  in  the  healthy  of  our  race  comes 
from  the  blood  circulating  in  this  inner  layer  of 
the  human  integument.  This  is  beyond  the 
reach  of  the  paint-pot  and  face-washes;  and  there 
is  no  other  means  of  preserving  its  beautiful  ro- 
seate tint,  and  giving  full  effect  to  its  brilliancy 
in  the  complexion,  than  by  a proper  care — with 

* We  shall  so  far  indulge  our  fair  readers  as  to  tell  them 
that  lime-juice  will  remove  these  ugly  stains,  while  at  the 
same  time  reminding  them  that  it  will  only  take  effect  after 
a good  preliminary  lathering  of  the  hice. 


30 


EATING  ARSENIC. 


suitable  exercise^  diet,  and  regimen — of  the  bod 
ily  health.  It  is  from  this  inner  source  that 
comes  the  rose-blush  which  warms  the  pellucid 
whiteness  of  the  blonde,  and  gives  the  ruddy 
mellowness  of  the  peach  to  the  ripe  color  of  the 
brunette.  That,  however,  it  may  glow  with  all 
its  natural  purity  and  beauty,  it  is  necessary  that 
the  thin  veil  which  covers  it  should  be  kept  un- 
obstructed and  translucent.  If  the  scarf,  or  out- 
er skin,  becomes  thickened  and  dulled  by  neglect, 
dirt,  and  the  use  of  cosmetics,  the  color  of  the 
inner,  or  sensitive  skin,  will  necessarily  be  hid- 
den, and  the  chief  charm  of  the  natural  complex- 
ion of  our  race  lost.  A proper  attention  to  the 
general  health,  and  a free  use  of  soap  and  water 
all  over,  are  the  only  means  of  obtaining  a sound 
skin  and  a good  complexion.* 

* Ever  since  a traveler  imprudently  revealed  the  fact  that 
some  women,  of  the  Carpathian  valleys,  we  believe,  secured 
for  themselves  beautiful  complexions  by  feeding  on  arsenic, 
this  practice,  it  is  said,  has  been  more  or  less  generally  adopt- 
ed, not  only  in  Europe,  but  in  this  country.  Physicians  have, 
moreover,  for  a long  time  been  in  the  habit  of  prescribing,  in 
diseases  of  the  skin,  a preparation  cajled  Fowler  s Solution^ 
the  principal  constituent  of  which  is  arsenic.  This  remedy 
is  considered  an  effective  one,  but  its  danger  is  so  great  that 
it  is  given  only  in  the  smallest  doses,  and  its  operation  is 
watched  with  the  utmost  care  and  anxiety.  Arsenic  is  one 
of  the  deadliest  poisons,  and  no  one  should  venture,  with  the 
remote  possibility  of  its  giving  clearness  to  the  complexion, 
to  dabble  with  it. 


DEESS  AND  FOEM. 


31 


CHAPTER  III. 

Relation  of  Dress  to  Form. — The  Hair. — Dyes. — Grayness. 
— Hair-cutting. — Its  Effect. — The  Nose. — The  Eye.— ^ 
Squinting. — Short-sightedness. — Eyebrows  and  Eyelash- 
es.— The  morbid  Phase  of  Fashion.  — Dark  - rimmed 
Eyes. 

While  in  ancient  times  it  was  the  form  which 
gave  shajie  to  the  dress,  nowadays  it  is  the  dress 
which  gives  shape  to  the  form.  We  have  thus 
given  up  our  bodies  to  the  tailor  and  dress-mak- 
er to  be  fashioned  according  to  their  caprices. 
The  Greek  woman,  with  a genuine  contour  of 
swelling  bosom  and  rounded  limb,  was  conten^t 
to  cover  herself  with  a simple  cloth,  which,  con- 
fident in  her  graceful  proportions,  she  left  to  as- 
sume the  natural  lines  of  her  figure.  The  mod- 
ern dame  of  fashion,  distrustful  of  nature,  resorts 
to  the  artifices  of  the  dress-maker,  and  thus,  with 
no  visible  sign  of  her  original  form,  breathes, 
sighs,  and  swells  in  depths  of  cotton  and  cir- 
cumferences of  whalebone. 

Though  the  lady”  and  “ gentleman”  of  our 
day,  being  lay  figures  more  or  less  stuffed  with 
hair  and  stiffened  Avith  wire,  haA^e  little  to  do 


32 


THE  HAIR. 


with  their  general  “ make-up,”  there  are  certain 
parts  of  their  bodies  which  they  can  not  wholly 
disguise  with  the  shams  of  dress.  These,  there- 
fore, remain  more  or  less  in  their  natural  state, 
and  are  left  to  show  the  beauties  or  defects  they 
may  possess.  Of  such  parts  of  their  bodies  men 
and  women  are  not  in  the  habit  of  delegating 
the  entire  care  to  other  hands  than  their  own. 
While,  therefore,  we  do  not  presume  to  meddle 
with  the  mantua-maker  and  tailor,  but  leave  to 
their  art  the  skillful  disposition  of  the  lines  and 
proportions  of  the  human  figure,  we  shall  ven- 
ture to  claim  for  nature  a part  in  the  manage- 
ment of  those  portions  of  the  frame  which  can 
not  be  wholly  concealed  or  disguised. 

There  is  no  part  of  the  human  body  with  which 
the  busy  hand  of  fashion  has  so  much  interfered 
as  the  hair,  and  especially  that  of  woman.  Fe- 
male ingenuity  seems  exhaustless  of  device  in 
twisting,  plaiting,  frizzing,  knotting,  heaping  up, 
scattering,  and  torturing  into  every  possible  form 
and  direction  the  flexible  material  which  natu- 
rally covers  the  head.  Of  these  multiform  mon- 
strosities of  shape  there  is  none  uglier  than  the 
chignon,  lately  so  prevalent  and  still  lingering 
unfortunately.  This  tumor-like  excrescence  dis- 
figures the  top  of  the  head  with  the  appearance 
of  a horrid  growth  of  disease  which  would  seem 


FALSE  HAIR  AND  DYES. 


33 


to  call  for  the  knife  of  the  surgeon  did  we  not 
know  that  it  could  be  placed  or  displaced  at  the 
will  of  the  wearer — sufferer  we  were  about  to 
say.* 

We  are  grateful  to  modern  fashion  for  its  taste^ 
ful  rejection  of  the  front  of  false  hair,  and  the 
graceful  submission  of  old  age  to  its  whitened 
locks.  There  is  no  severer  trial  of  reverence 
than  the  sight  of  one  of  those  ugly  patches  of 
black  stuck  over  the  eyes  of  a matron,  and  noth- 
ing can  accord  so  ill  as  its  positiveness  of  color 
and  precision  of  outline  Avith  the  mottled  mel- 
lowness and  Avavy  lines  of  an  aged  face. 

Dyeing  the  hair  is  the  most  preposterous  of 
all  attempts  at  human  deceit ; for  it  deceives  no 
one  but  the  deceiver  himself,  whose  a anity  leads 
him  to  believe  that  his  artifice  is  successful. 
There  is  no  one  Avho  has  once  commenced  this 
practice  of  giving  an  artificial  color  to  his  hair 

* The  hair  of  which  the  chirjnon  or  waterfall  is  made  is 
mostly  brought  from  Caffreland,  where  it  is  cut  from  the 
heads  of  the  filthiest  and  most  disgusting  population  in  the 
world.  The  former  sources  of  supply,  the  peasants  of  Ger- 
many, and  the  dead  of  hospitals  and  prisons,  are  incapable  of 
furnishing  the  excessive  demand  for  hair  created  by  the  gen- 
eral prevalence  of  the  present  monstrosity  of  fashion.  The 
Hottentot  product  is  shipped  to  London,  near  which  there  is 
a place  where  it  was  purified.  This,  however,  in  consequence 
of  the  intolerable  stench,  has  been  indicted  as  a nuisance. 

c 


34 


GKAY  AND  FALLING  HAIR. 


but  must  regret  it.  It  is  generally  begun  with 
the  idea  that  a single  application  will  be  suffi- 
cient for  all  time  ; but  when  it  is  discovered  that 
it  must  be  continued,  the  constant  repetition  of 
the  dirty  and  fatiguing  process  soon  becomes 
wearisome  and  disgusting.  Each  application  of 
the  dye,  Avhatever  it  may  be^  colors,  or  discolors 
rather,  only  that  portion  of  the  hair  above  the 
surface  of  the  scalj^.  The  new  growth,  which  is 
constantly  taking  place  from  the  roots,  appears 
always  with  the  natural  tint. 

There  is  a premature  grayness  Avhicli  some- 
times occurs  in  the  young,  chiefly  in  those  of 
light  complexions  and  light-colored  hair,  which 
is  the  consequence  of  Aveakness  of  the  nervous 
power.  This,  as  Avell  as  the  loosening  and  fall- 
ing out  of  the  hair,  Avhich  come  often  from  the 
same  cause,  may  be  checked  by  increase  of  the 
general  vigor  and  the  use  of  proper  local  reme- 
dies. A useful  practice,  when  the  hair  is  suffix 
ciently  short  to  admit  of  it,  is  to  plunge  the  head 
in  cold  water  morning  and  night,  and,  aitei 
thoroughly  drying,  to  brush  it  briskly  until  the 
scalp  is  Avarmed  to  a gloAV.  A simple  lotion 
composed  of  half  an  ounce  of  vinegar  of  canthar- 
ides,  and  an  ounce  each  of  Cologne  and  rose  Ava- 
' ters,  rubbed  on  the  scalp,  Avill  probably  be  found 
beneficial.  The  dandinifl*,  Avhich  is  a natural  for- 


IIAIR-CUTTIKG. 


35 


ination  composed  of  the  scales  of  the  skin  which 
are  being  constantly  thrown  off,  requires  only  a 
proper  cleanliness  to  prevent  its  too  great  accu- 
mulation, and  a moderate  use  of  oil  or  pomatum 
to  moisten  the  scalp. 

It  is  very  questionable  whether  frequent  cut- 
ting of  the  hair  is  as  favorable  to  its  growth  and 
beauty  as  is  generally  supposed.  . In  fact,  some 
of  the  most  luxuriant  heads  of  hair  we  have  ever 
seen  had  never  been  touched  by  the  scissors.  It 
IS  quite  certain  that  the  common  practice  of  crop- 
ping, or  shaving  the  head  for  the  purpose  of 
strengthening  the  growth  of  the  hair,  not  only 
fails  of  this  eifect,  but  often  produces  the  con- 
trary result,  and  not  seldom  total  baldness  en- 
sues where  a small  stock  is  sacrificed  with  the 
delusive  hope  of  obtaining  a great  supply. 

The  depilatories  of  the  nostrum  venders  for 
the  removal  of  superfluous  hair  are  dangerous. 
If  dame  or  damsel  should  be  troubled  by  the 
show  of  a mustache  or  beard,  we  know  of  no 
means  of  checking  this  masculine  encroachment 
but  by  the  patient  use  of  the  tweezers. 

The  American  Indians  are  said  to  succeed  in 
smoothing  their  faces  by  persistingly  plucking 
out  each  hair  as  it  grows. 

There  is  no  feature  of  the  face  so  essential  to 
good  looks  as  the  nose.  It  admits  of  great  va^ 


36 


THE  NOSE. 


riety  of  form,  but  it  must  be  there  in  some  shape 
or  other.  Though  the  nose  is  not  capable,  as  the 
eye  and  mouth,  of  much  variety  of  expression,  its 
particular  conformation  has  more  to  do  than  that 
of  any  other  single  feature  with  the  individual 
character  of  the  human  countenance.  Change 
this  in  a drawing,  without  altering  any  other 
part,  and  you  will  find  with  each  variety  a com- 
plete transformation  of  the  whole  face. 

The  Grecian  nose,  with  its  straight  lines  and 
symmetrical  arrangement,  has  been  generally 
accepted  by  artists  as  the  most  beautiful ; but 
different  nations,  notwithstanding,  cling  fondly 
to  their  own  particular  forms  of  this  organ.  A 
Hottentot  Venus,  we  may  be  assured,  w’ould 
never  receive  the  prize  of  beauty  from  any  Paris 
of  her  own  race  if  she  were  destitute  of  the  na- 
tional flat  nose.  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  who  held 
that  the  idea  of  beauty  was  dependent  upon  the 
association  of  ideas,  would  evidently  have  ap- 
proved of  the  principles  of  the  African  judge. 
He  would,  however,  at  the  same  time  have  con- 
gratulated himself,  doubtless,  that,  being  an  En- 
glishman, he  was  not  bound  to  accept  the  flat 
nose  of  Ethiopia  as  a necessary  element  of  his 
own  idea  of  beauty.  “I  suppose  nobody  will 
doubt,”  he  says,  “ if  a negro  painter  was  to  paint 
the  Goddess  of  Beauty,  that  he  would  represent 


NASAL  BEAUTY. 


37 


her  black,  with  thick  lips,  flat  nose,  and  woolly 
hair;  and  it  seems  to  me  that  he  would  act  very 
unnaturally  if  he  did  not;  for  by  what  criterion 
will  any  one  dispute  his  idea  ?” 

There  seems  to  be  no  absolute  standard  of 
nasal  beauty.  The  Romans  were  proud  of  their 
stern  and  portentous  aquilines,  and  the  Israelites 
would  probably  not  be  content  to  lose  the  smalh 
est  tip  of  their  redundant  beaks.  The  Tartars, 
having  no  noses  to  speak  of,  aflect  to  consider 
the  deficiency  a beauty.  The  wife  of  Genghis 
Khan  was  esteemed  the  most  charming  woman 
in  all  Tartary  because  she  only  had  two  holes 
where  her  nose  should  have  been. 

The  peculiar  form  of  the  nose  seems  in  fact  to 
have  but  little  influence  upon  our  likes  and  dis- 
likes. Mirabeau,  who  had  a nose  as  widespread 
as  that  of  a Hottentot,  and  Gibbon  and  Wilkes, 
whose  noses  were  reduced  to  barely  perceptible 
snubs,  were  very  successful  suitors  of  the  female 
sex.  The  turn-up  nose  can  not  be  justified  by 
any  principle  of  taste,  and  yet  the  nez  retrousse^ 
by  which  French  appellation  we  are  fond  of  dig- 
nifying the  pug,  is  so  far  from  diminishing,  that 
it  seems  to  increase  the  admiration  of  man  for 
the  woman  who  possesses  it.  No  heroine  of  a 
modern  novel  appears  complete  without  the  7iez 
retrousse^  and  Madame  Du  Barri,  the  common 


38 


EXPRESSION  OF  THE  NOSE. 


town  courtesan,  owes  to  it  her  place  in  history 
by  the  side  of  the  w^orthless  Louis  XV. 

There  is  no  part  of  the  physiognomy  which 
reveals  so  quickly  and  clearly  ill  temper  and  bad 
habits  as  the  nose.  Every  snarling,  discontent- 
ed, proud,  and  envious  emotion  is  accompanied 
by  a lifting  of  the  end  of  each  nostril  through 
the  agency  of  a little  muscle,  which,  after  fi-e- 
quent  action,  gives  to  the  nose  a permanent  turn- 
up, which  is  as  repulsive  as  the  snout  of  an  ill- 
tempered  dog.  The  nose,  moreover,  like  the 
door-post  of  an  old-fashioned  inn,  scores  every 
excess  of  eating  and  drinking,  and  so  prominent- 
ly as  to  be  read  by  the  passer-by.* 

* The  nose,  as  is  well  known,  is  the  organ  of  smell.  For 
this  purpose  it  is  endowed  with  a pair  of  nerves,  called  the 
olfactory,  whose  abounding  filaments  pierce  the  many  holes 
and  cover  the  multiple  surfaces  of  the  light  and  porous  struc- 
ture termed  the  spongy  bone,  which  lies  at  the  root  of  each 
nostril.  This  peculiar  organization  is  with  the  object  of  giv- 
ing free  entrance  to  the  air,  through  the  medium  of  -which 
odor  is  conveyed  to  the  nerve,  in  which  the  sense  of  smell  re- 
sides. The  act  of  smelling  is  performed  by  closing  the  mouth 
and  breathing  through  the  nostrils,  which  expand  to  the  odor, 
ous  gale  which  thus  enters  and  is  diffused  through  every  open- 
ing and  over  each  surface  of  the  bone  where  the  nerve  pene- 
trates and  expands  its  closely-woven  net  of  threads.  Man  is 
naturally  endow’ed  with  an  acute  sense  of  smell,  but  its  pow- 
er can  be  greatly  increased  or  diminished  art.  Those 
whose  vocation  is  among  stenches  become  by  practiced  indif- 
ference almost  regardless  of  them  •,  and  others,  whose  bush 


THE  EYE. 


39 


Tlie  eye  is,  above  all,  the  glory  of  the  face. 
With  it  we  chiefly  express  our  reverential  sub- 
ordination to  the  Deity,  and  our  familiar  rela- 
tions with  man ; see  visions  of  divine  beauty  in 
nature,  and  catch  that  light  of  sympathy  by 
which  we  recognize  in  every  human  countenance 
a brother. 

The  eye  is  especially  a social  feature,  and  it 
becomes  us,  therefore,  more  particularly  to  guard 
and  use  it  with  a discreet  :care.  Its  beauty,  what- 
ever may  be  its  natural  character,  is  greatly  de- 
pendent upon  the  general  health.  Any  thing 
which  tends  to  weaken  the  powei’S  of  the  body 
afiects  more  or  less  the  condition  of  the  eye. 

ness  requires  a discriminating  nicety  of  the  sense,  obtain  by 
studied  attention  a marvelous  acuteness  of  smell.  There  was 
a night-man  in  Berlin  who  declared  that  he  was  not  sensible 
cf  the  intensest  smell  of  his  odoriferous  occupation.  Qn  the 
examination  of  his  body  after  death  no  olfactory  nerve  was 
found.  Whether  this  was  an  original  defect,  or  only  the  re- 
sult of  a long  and  resolute  disuse  of  his  sense  of  smell,  could 
not  be  determined.  Nature  or  art  had  made  him  the  right 
man  for  the  right  place.  The  dog  and  some  other  animals 
have  a much  acuter  sense  of  smell  than  man,  and  we  accord- 
ingly find  in  them  larger  olfactory  nerves,  and  more  extensive, 
porous,  and  convoluted  spongy  bones  for  the  exposure  of  their 
filaments  to  the  odorous  breath  of  the  air.  A dog,  by  the 
sense  of  smell,  will  trace  and  nose  out  his  master  in  the  most 
multitudinous  crowed.  This  proves  not  only  the  acuteness  of 
the  smelling  power  of  the  animal,  but  establishes  the  fact  that 
each  man,  as  well  as  every  race  of  men,  has  a peculiar  odor. 


40 


SHORT-SIGHTEDNESS. 


Excess  of  all  kinds  is  reflected  in  it  at  onccj  Mid 
it  is  doubtful  whether  any  abuse  of  the  organ  it- 
self, apart  from  the  application  of  direct  violence, 
is  so  injurious  as  the  inordinate  indulgence  of  the 
passions,  or  the  practice  of  those  habits  which 
enervate  and  finally  destroy  the  human  const! 
tution. 

Short-sightedness  is  not  always,  as  it  is  often 
supposed,  a natural  defect.  It  is  frequently  ac- 
quired by  the  habit  in  youth  of  applying  the 
eyes  too  closely  to  the  object  of  vision.  Thus 
it  is  not  an  infrequent  result  of  the  practice  com- 
mon among  children  of  bending  their  heads  too 
near  to  the  books  they  read.  This  fatal  habit 
should  be  carefully  guarded  against  by  parents. 
Even  where  there  seems  to  be  a natural  defect, 
it  will  often  yield  to  a jiroper  regimen  of  the 
eyes.  Modern  oculists  reject  the  old  idea  that 
it  is  good  for  short-sighted  people  to  make  con- 
stant efforts  to  see  without  artificial  aid.  Now 
it  is  held  to  be  a judicious  proceeding  to  resort 
as  early  as  possible  to  the  use  of  glasses,  which 
should  be  adapted  precisely  to  the  wants  of  the 
person.  These  are  only  to  be  recognized  by  a 
patient  trial  under  the  direction  of  an  adept  in 
the  art. 

Squinting  is  another  defect  often  attributed 
to  Nature,  when  it  is  not  seldom  due  to  a willful 


EYEBROWS  AND  LASHES. 


41 


neglect  of  its  laws.  Surgeons  have  abandoned 
the  operation  for  this  deformity,  and  as  the  knife 
has  proved  useless  in  eradicating  the  evil  when 
formed,  it  behooves  all  to  be  more  careful  to 
prevent  its  formation.  Among  the  frequent 
causes  of  this  ugly  defect  are  some  so  sliglit 
that  they  are  seldom  noticed  by  those  who 
have  the  care  of  the  young.  An  ill-fitting  cap 
or  bonnet,  with  a too  projecting  front,  or  a loose 
ribbon  or  tape  falling  from  above  and  dangling 
within  the  field  of  vision,  is  often  the  commenc- 
ing cause  of  a squint.  It  is  not  seldom  produced, 
also,  by  neglecting  to  have  the  child’s  hair  cut, 
which,  consequently,  is  allowed  to  hang  down 
and  shake  loosely  above  the  eyes,  which  are  thus 
frequently  and  irregularly  diverted,  until  their 
sight  becomes  permanently  cross. 

The  eyebrows  and  lashes  can  not  be  much  in- 
terfered with  to  their  advantage  by  art.  The 
regularity  and  smoothness  of  the  hairs,  which 
are  essential  to  the  beauty  of  the  brow,  are 
undoubtedly  favored  by  occasional  rubbing  or 
brushing  in  a uniform  direction  with  a fine 
cloth  or  soft  brush.  A solution  of  sulphate  of 
quinine  has  been  recommended  as  a useful  ap- 
plication to  thin  eyebrows.  Shaving  these  or 
the  lashes  is  a pernicious  practice,  and,  so  far 
from  improving  either,  may  result  in  a perverse, 
growth  of  new  hair. 


42 


EYELIDS. 


Some  people,  whose  two  eyebrows  have  a ten 
dency  to  unite,  are  so  uneasy  at  it  that  they  per- 
sistently pluck  out  the  approaching  hairs.  It 
may  console  such  to  know  that  such  a union 
was  esteemed  a beauty  by  the  ancients ; and  Ten- 
nyson alludes  to  this  peculiar  growth,  which  was 
common  to  his  friend  Hallam  and  to  Michael  An- 
gelo, in  these,  to  many  incomprehensible,  line^ : 

“And  over  tliine  ethereal  eyes 
The  bar  of  Michael  Angelo.” 

The  eyelashes,  which,  to  be  eminently  beautl 
fill,  should  be  long  and  deeply  black,  are  depend 
ent  greatly  upon  the  general  health  and  the  con- 
dition of  the  organs  which  they  adorn  and  jiro- 
tect  for  their  good  appearance.  Any  thing  which 
directly  fatigues  the  eye,  or  indirectly  affects  it 
by  weakening  the  body,  is  sure  to  show  its  mark 
upon  the  edges  of  the  eyelids.  These  become 
more  or  less  inflamed,  reddened,  saturated  wdth 
tears,  and  besmeared  with  a mucous  which,  thick- 
ening and  hardening  about  their  roots,  finally  de- 
taches them.  The  scales  or  crusts  thus  formed 
should  never  be  torn  away  with  violence,  for  the 
hairs  are  sure  to  come  with  them.  The  best 
mode  of  removing  them  is  to  apply  at  night  a 
little  cold  cream  to  the  edges  of  the  lids  of  the 
closed  eye,  and  in  the  morning  to  bathe  them 


STRAINING  THE  EYES. 


43 


with  lukewarm  milk  and  water.  When  these 
incrustations  become  inveterate,  means  must  bo 
taken  to  strengthen  the  general  health.  The 
best  local  application  is  the  slightest  touch  of 
dilute  citrine  ointment. 

Nothing  is  worse  for  the  eyes  than  straining 
them  to  see  with  an  imperfect  light,  and  every 
one  who  cares  to  preserve  their  strength  and 
beauty  should  avoid  using  them  in  the  uncer- 
tain glimmer  of  twilight,  or  in  the  flicker  of  a 
sputtering  tallow  candle  or  ill-trimmed  lamp.  It 
may  be  well  to  remind  our  sentimental  readers 
that  all  unnecessary  weeping  had  better  be  avoid- 
ed, for  the  delights  of  crying  over  the  jilted  Au- 
gustus or  the  broken-hearted  Araminta  of  the 
last  novel  can  not  be  indulged  in  without  risk 
to  the  health  and  beauty  of  the  eyes. 

There  is  a phase  of  fashion  which  the  doctors 
might  call  the  morhific^  characterized  by  an  af- 
fectation of  the  symptoms  of  disease.  The 
younger  Dumas,  with  his  phthisical  heroines, 
as  unsound  in  flesh  as  in  moi’als,  is  greatly  re- 
sponsible for  the  vogue  given  to  the  pallid,  wan, 
hectic,  and  feeble.  We  thus  find  the  florid  and 
robust  assuming  ill  health  when  they  have  it 
not,  and  resorting  to  all  kinds  of  contrivances 
to  give  the  face  a cast  of  sickliness,  to  which  a 
robust  nature  has  imparted  her  own  freshness 


44 


A LANGUISHING  AIR. 


nnd  brightness  of  color.  Among  the  various  ex< 
jjedients  for  giving  themselves  this  fashionable 
“languishing,  dying”  air,  that  of  darkening  with 
a black  pigment  the  orbit  of  the  eye  is  in  com- 
mon use  by  many  women.  They  thus  produce 
a very  fair  imitation  of  what  the  French  call  les 
yeiix  cernes^  and  at  certain  distances  the  effect  is 
not  unlike  that  which  is  intended,  but  which  we 
would  suppose  no  delicate  woman  would  care  to 
exhibit  so  ostentatiously. 

It  is  sometimes  the  practice  to  paint  the  eye- 
brows and  eyelashes,  and  even  to  cloud  the  eye* 
balls  by  means  of  ink  dropped  between  the  lids. 

'N'ot  only  does  a decorous  taste  emphatically 
condemn  these  practices,  which  give  unmistak- 
able indications  of  the  painted  Jezebel,  but  pru- 
dence forbids  them.  All  pigments,  even  when 
applied  to  the  surface  of  the  surrounding  parts 
of  the  eye,  are  dangerous,  and  nothing  like  ink 
can  be  dropped  upon  that  delicate  organ  without 
certain  mischief.  We  know  of  a permanent  loss 
of  sight  from  paralysis  produced  by  the  frequent 
use  of  belladonna  to  give  an  unnatural  largeness 
to  the  pupil,  supposed  to  be,  by  some  women  of 
a morbid  taste,  a sign  of  languishing  beaut  y. 


THE  EAK, 


45 


CHAPTER  IV. 

The  Ear. — How  to  make  it  l)eaiitifLil. — Ear-wax. — Ear 
pulling. — The  Mouth. — Its  Beauty  and  Ugliness. — The 
Proud  Muscle. — The  Tongue. — Tongue  - scraping. — The 
Teeth. — Proper  Management. — Use  of  Tobacco. 

The  human  ear  in  its  more  perfect  forms  is  cer- 
tainly a beautiful  object ; but  there  is  no  feature 
which  is  so  frequently  unattractive.  This  may 
be  owing  to  its  neglect  in  childhood  and  youth. 
Being  round  the  corner,  as  it  were,  of  the  face,  it 
is  apt  to  be  left  uncared  for,  while  the  front  is 
more  diligently  tended.  The  shape  of  the  ear  is 
generally  deformed  in  infancy  and  childhood  by 
the_  carelessness  of  mother  or  nurse.  In  adjust- 
ing the  cap,  hat,  or  bonnet,  Avliile  every  efibrt  is 
made  to  give  it  as  jaunty  a setting  as  possible 
upon  the  head,  with  the  due  rakishness  of  incli- 
nation to  the  right  or  left,  the  ears  are  allowed 
to  shift  as  they  may  for  themselves.  They  thus 
are  either  crumpled  up  and  pressed  down  irreg- 
ularly under  the  tight  rim  of  the  covering  of  the 
head,  or  squeezed  out  from  their  natural  resting- 
places,  and  forced  into  a stuck-out  position  which 
is  by  no  means  graceful.  The  careful  mother 


46 


EXPOSURE  OF  THE  EAR. 


will  take  the  precaution,  each  time  that  she  puts 
on  the  cap,  hat,  or  bonnet,  as  it  may  be,  to  smooth 
down  with  her  gentle  hands  the  ears  of  her  child, 
and  see  that  they  are  held  with  a slight  pressure, 
in  their  proper  position,  at  the  sides  of  the  head, 
where  they  ought  to  snugly  nestle.  She  will  thus 
probably  secure  for  her  offspring  a pair  of  small, 
transparent,  delicately  colored,  and  thin,  shell- 
shaped ears  such  as  ^Nature  intended,  and  escape 
those  monstrous  productions  we  so  often  see, 
which  have  been  likened,  with  more  or  less  just^ 
ness  of  comparison,  to  swollen,  overripe  purple 
figs,  gigantic  oysters,  and  asinine  exci'escences. 

We  can  not  but  protest  against  the  prevailing 
style  of  dressing  the  hair,  tvhich,  violently  drawn 
away  from  the  ears,  leaves  them  exposed  in  all 
their  ugly  nakedness.  In  the  ancient  Greek 
statue  of  female  beauty  the  ear  is  always  j^ar- 
tially  hidden  by  the  hair.  If,  in  its  ideal  grace, 
it  modestly  half  retires  from  the  sight,  it  cer- 
tainly, in  its  modern  matter-of-fact  ugliness, 
should  conceal  itself  altogether.  We  might  pos- 
sibly be  persuaded  to  make  an  exception  in  favor 
of  a beautiful  ear,  but  we  can  not  be  prevailed 
upon  to  accept  the  exposure  of  the  auricular 
monstrosities  to  be  beheld  every  where.  Do 
with  them  what  you  please,  but  keep  them  out 
of  sight,  or,  at  any  rate,  do  not  force  their  ugli- 


STRUCTURE  OF  THE  EAR. 


ness  upon  our  notice  by  jingling  or  glistening 
gewgaws. 

The  ear  is  a most  complicated  and  delicate 
apparatus ; but,  fortunately,  it  is  so  shut  up  with- 
in the  casket  of  the  skull  that  it  can  hardly  be 
disarranged  by  our  negligence  or  interference. 
It  has  over  the  openings  of  its  outer  to  the  in 
most  of  its  series  of  winding  passages  membranes 
tightly  stretched,  like  the  parchment  of  a drum, 
and  tliese  vibrate  to  every  sound,  which  is  con- 
veyed from  one  to  the  other  by  a chain  of  little 
bones.  These,  in  turn,  transmit  the  vibration  to 
threads  of  nerves,  which  communicate  the  sensa- 
tion to  the  brain,  and  enable  the  mysterious  poAV- 
er  of  this  organ  to  form  a perception  of  sound. 
As  in  the  case  of  the  military  drum,  the  mem- 
branes of  the  ear,  ivhich  in  fact  are  called  drums, 
recpiire  for  their  proper  vibration  the  presence  of 
air  on  both  sides.  This,  in  case  of  the  ear,  is  pro- 
vided for  not  only  by  its  external  opening,  but 
by  an  internal  communication  Avith  the  mouth 
and  nose.  Hence  any  cause  Avhich  closes  these 
inlets  to  the  atmosphere  is  sure  to  affect  the 
hearing.  Thus  an  ordinary  cold  in  the  head, 
which  swells  the  membrane  of  the  nostrils,  aug- 
ments their  natural  discharge,  and  stuffs  them 
up,  as  it  Avere,  always  produces  a certain  degree 
of  deafness.  The  outer  opening  to  the  ear  se- 


48 


CAUSES  OF  DEAFNESS. 


cretes  for  its  jDrotection,  and  to  keep  the  passage 
smooth  for  the  conveyance  of  sound,  a natural 
wax.  This  is  apt  to  accumulate  in  undue  quan- 
tity, become  hardened,  and  produce  deafness  and 
a disagreeable  ringing  sound.  A little  warm 
water  squeezed  into  the  ear  from  a sponge,  and 
a drop  or  two  of  sweet  oil  let  fall  into  it  after- 
ward, Avill  generally  remove  the  accumulation. 
If  not,  recourse  should  be  had  to  the  surgeon, 
who  with  a syringe  and  a blunt  instrument  wdll 
soon  get  rid  of  the  uncomfortable  deposit.  It  is 
a dangerous  practice  for  persons  to  be  fumbling 
about  their  ears  Avith  the  ordinary  little  steel 
spoon  at  the  end  of  the  tweezers  found  in  most 
dressing-cases.  If  thrust  too  far  and  forcibly 
into  the  ear,  it  may  penetrate  or  tear  its  external 
drum  and  seriously  damage  the  hearing.  Most 
of  the  cases  of  prolonged  deafness  arise  from  per- 
manent destruction  of  the  internal  apparatus  or 
paralysis  of  the  nerves  of  the  ear,  and  are  unfort- 
unately beyond  the  reach  of  art.  These  are  the 
incurable  cases  upon  which  the  quack  speculates 
with  such  pecuniary  success.  His  impudent  and 
lying  assertion  of  power  never  fails  to  find  a cred^ 
ulous  ear  among  those  who  hai^e  turned  away  in 
despair  from  the  honest  confession  of  impotency 
of  the  man  of  science. 

Ear- pul  ling  of  all  kinds,  Avhether  in  fun  or 


THIN  AND  BLUBBER  LIPS. 


49 


earnest,  practiced  condescendingly  or  magisteri- 
ally,  by  an  emperor  in  his  good,  or  by  a schoob 
master  in  his  bad  humors,  is  ungracious  and  dan- 
gerous. Children’s  ears  are  thus  frequently  in- 
jured, and  always  distorted,  if  the  pulling  is  ha- 
bitual. 

As  far  as  appearance  is  concerned,  it  does  not 
matter  much  what  shape  the  male  mouth  may 
have,  as,  with  the  present  style  of  wearing  the 
mustache  and  beard,  little  of  it  can  be  seen.  In 
the  smooth  face  of  woman,  however,  the  form  of 
the  mouth  has  a great  deal  to  do  with  its  beauty 
or  ugliness.  The  standard  of  taste  in  regard  to 
this,  as  to  other  features,  varies  in  different  na- 
tions. The  African  not  only  prefers  the  flat 
nose,  but  the  blubber  lip ; and  Mungo  Park,  when 
traveling  on  the  banks  of  the  Niger,  overheard 
a conclave  of  negro  native  matrons  discussing 
the  possibility  of  there  being  in  any  part  of  the 
world  a woman  capable  of  kissing  such  a shriv- 
eled mouth  as  his  European  one.  Frightful, 
however,  as  Avere  his  thin  lips,  this  did  not  pre- 
vent the  African  maiden  from  moistening  them 
in  their  agony  of  fevered  thirst  with  a draught 
of  water  from  her  refreshing  gourd.  Such  was 
the  triumph  of  Avoman’s  tenderness  that  it  even 
overcame  her  natural  disgust. 

Though  Av^e  are  far  from  admiring  the  African 

T> 


50 


LOVELY  MOUTHS. 


mouth,  we  consider  a certain  fullness  of  the  hpn 
essential  to  female  loveliness.  The  thin  lip, 
making  no  show  of  a ruddy  succulence,  seem!? 
to  indicate,  with  a meagreness  and  acridity  of 
blood,  a cold  and  sour  disposition ; and  we  are 
not  surprised  to  read  that  the  shrewish  Xan- 
tippe,  the  incompatible  spouse  of  Socrates,  wan 
lean-mouthed. 

The  most  lovable  of  mouths  is  given  to  the 
bride  by  Suckling  in  Ballad  on  a Weddmg: 

Her  lips  were  red,  and  one  was  thin 
Compared  to  that  was  next  her  chin, 

Some  bee  had  stung  it  newly.  ” 

All  the  poets — and  they  are  supposed  to  have 
the  nicest  sensibility  to  female  as  to  other  beau- 
ty— agree  in  bestowing  a certain  fullness  and 
redness  upon  the  lips  of  their  ideal  loves.  The 
expanding  rose-bud  is,  as  is  well  known,  the  tra^ 
ditional  comparison : 

“ Roses  are  her  cheeks, 

And  a rose  her  mouth.” 

The  more  the  line  of  tlie  upper  lip  resembles 
the  form  of  the  classical  bow,  the  more  closely  it 
approaches  the  ideal  of  beauty.  This  potent 
weapon  of  Apollo  and  Cupid,  in  fact,  was  mod- 
eled from  the  curve  of  the  mouth,  and  symbol- 
izes, in  the  eloquence  of  the  one  and  the  love  of 
the  other,  the  power  of  words,  whether  whisper* 


BITING  THE  LIPS. 


51 


ed  in  the  ear  of  affection  or  thundered  forth  to 
the  hearing  of  a multitude. 

There  is  no  art  potent  enough  to  give  the 
beauty  of  symmetry  which  Nature  may  have  re- 
fused to  the  lips.  If  they  become  unnaturally 
pale,  more  or  less  rouge  mixed  with  beeswax 
will  give  them  a deceitful  and  temporary  gloss 
of  nature.  To  this  daubing  our  fashionable 
dames  are  constantly  obliged  to  resort,  for  their 
exhausting  lives  of  dissipation  impoverish  and 
decolorize  the  blood,  and  the  effect  is  apparent 
at  once  in  the  blanched  lip.  A frequent  usage, 
however,  of  the  lip  salve,  as  it  is  ingeniously 
called,  but  which  is  merely  a red  pigment  in 
disguise,  so  inflames,  thickens,  roughens,  and 
gives  such  a peculiar  tint  to  the  mouth,  that  it 
has  the  look  of  the  shriveled,  purplish  one  of  a 
sick  negress.*  The  habit  of  biting  the  lips  soon 
destroys  any  grace  of  form  they  may  have  orig- 
inally possessed.  Madame  de  Pompadour,  while 
lamenting  the  decay  of  her  charms,  confessed 
that  she  first  began  to  spoil  at  the  mouth.  She 
had  early  acquired  the  habit  of  biting  her  lips  in 
3rder  to  conceal  her  emotion.  “At  thirty  years,’' 
says  a historian,  “her  mouth  had  lost  all  its  strb 
king  brilliancy.”  She,  too,  began  at  a very  early 

* The  best  wash  to  give  a pleasant  taste  to  the  mouth  and 
odor  to  the  breath  is  a weak  infusion  of  mint. 


THE  PROUD  MUSCLE. 


52 

period  to  touch  herself  up  with  that  paint  so  fa^ 
tal  to  the  duration  of  facial  charms,  and  at  court 
only  dared  to  show  herself  by  candle-light. 

The  mouth,  supplied  with  a number  of  muscles 
quick  to  act  at  the  vaguest  command  of  the  will, 
is  very  expressive  of  the  disposition.  There  is 
one  little  one  against  whose  action  we  would  put 
our  young  damsels  on  their  guard.  It  is  the 
same  as  that  which  turns  up  the  nostril  at  the 
least  emotion  of  pride,  envy,  or  disgust.  It  also 
at  the  same  time,  for  it  is  connected  with  the 
mouth,  pulls  up  its  upper  lip.  The  effect  of  the 
frequent  exercise  of  all  muscles  of  the  face  is  to 
give  a permanent  expression  according  to  the 
direction  of  their  action.  This  is  more  marked 
in  that  of  the  mouth  and  nose,  called  by  the  an- 
cients the  muscidus  superhtis^  or  j^roud  muscle. 
If  our  pretty  girls  desire  to  grow  old  gracefully, 
we  would  advise  them  to  be  chary  of  the  use  of 
this  telltale  messenger,  for,  if  his  services  should 
be  often  availed  of,  he  will  be  sure  to  turn  up 
the  nose  and  lip  in  permanent  disgust  of  his  func- 
tionSo  It  is  the  most  distinctive  and  repulsive 
sign  of  an  envious  old  maid  or  any  other  ill-tem- 
pered person. 

Whatever  beauty  of  form  and  grace  of  proper- 
tion  the  human  tongue  may  have,  no  one  but  the 
possessor  is  supposed  to  be  cognizant  of  them. 


THE  TONGUE. 


53 


People  are  not  in  the  habit  of  thrusting  out  this 
organ  to  the  gaze  of  others  except  in  illness  for 
the  inspection  of  the  doctor,  or  in  rudeness,  to  ex- 
press contemjDt  of  an  opponent. 

The  tongue,  however,  though  not  wont  to 
make  a frequent  appearance  before  the  public, 
demands  no  less  care  for  the  proper  performance 
of  the  duties  of  its  private  station.  Upon  its 
surface  there  is  apt  to  gather  a fur  which  is  not 
easily  removed  by  the  ordinary  rinsing  of  the 
mouth.  There  is  an  instrument  of  silver,  called 
a tongue-scraper,  which  was  never  absent  from 
the  toilette-cases  of  our  grandams,  but  is  now  al- 
most obsolete,  that  is  well  adapted  to  this  pur- 
pose, and  should  be  used  every  morning  to  rC' 
move  the  covering  of  thickened  mucus  which 
accumulates  in  the  course  of  the  night.  This 
fur,  if  left,  gives  a sensation  of  pastiness  and  full- 
ness to  the  mouth,  and  not  only  destroys  the  del- 
icacy of  the  taste  and  the  disposition  for  food, 
but  thickens  the  voice. 

Dr.  Holmes,  in  one  of  his  medical  essays,  gives 
an  historical  importance  to  the  tongue-scraper. 
“I,”  says  he,  “think  more  of  this  little  imple- 
ment on  account  of  its  agency  in  saving  the  col- 
ony at  Plymouth  in  the  year  1623.  Edward 
Winslow  heard  that  Massasoit  was  sick  and  like 
to  die.  He  found  him  with  a houseful  of  people 


54 


STANDlSn’s  TONGUE-SCRAPER. 


about  him,  Avomen  rubbing  his  arms  and  legs, 
and  friends  ‘ making  such  a hellish  noise’  as  they 
probably  thought  would  scare  away  the  devil 
of  sickness.  Winslow  gave  him  some  conserve, 
washed  his  mouth,  scraped  his  tongue^  Avhich  was 
in  a horrid  state,  got  down  some  drink,  made  him 
some  broth,  dosed  him  Avith  an  infusion  of  straAV- 
berry  leaves  and  sassafras  root,  and  had  the  sat- 
isfaction of  seeing  him  rapidly  recover.  Massa- 
soit,  full  of  gratitude,  revealed  the  plot  Avhich 
had  been  formed  to  destroy  the  colonists,  Avhere- 
npon  the  governor  ordered  Captain  Miles  Stan- 
xlish  to  see  to  it.”  The  captain  did  effectually 
‘‘see  to  it,”  and  stabbing  Peckswot, the  ringlead- 
er, Avith  his  own  knife,  broke  up  the  plot  and 
?aA^ed  the  colony. 

The  old-fashioned  doctor  is  apt  to  trust  too 
much  to  the  tongue  as  an  indicator  of  the  state 
of  tlie  stomach,  and  has  often  recourse  to  a se- 
A^ere  drench  of  the  remote  organ,  A\"here  a simple 
scrape  of  the  near  and  tangible  one  would  be 
more  eifectual.  A mere  fur  of  the  tongue  should 
alarm  no  one,  if  unaccompanied  by  no  other  indi- 
cation of  disease ; for,  in  nine  cases  out  of  ten,  it 
is  only  a local  foulness,  easily  removed  by  the 
scraper,  or  destined  quickly  to  disai^pear  through 
the  natural  self-cleansing  of  the  mouth. 

The  tongue,  though  its  recuperative  poAver  is 


abusp:  of  the  tongue. 


55 


very  great  and  rapid,  as  is  proved  by  tlie  quick- 
ness and  completeness  with  which  a cut,  a blis- 
ter, or  a burn,  or  any  ordinary  injury  of  it  will 
heal,  may  become  the  seat  of  serious  disease  by 
prolonged  irritation.  Thus  a jagged  tooth,  the 
continued  pressure  of  the  pipe-stem,  and  the  end 
of  the  cigar,  will  produce  tedious  ulcers  of  the 
tongue,  and  occasionally  deadly  cancers. 

The  tongue  has  the  exclusive  credit  for  func- 
tions that  do  not  belong  to  it.  It  is  not  either 
the  sole  organ  of  language  or  of  taste.  The 
throat,  with  its  vocal  chords  and  its  palate,  and 
the  nose,  with  its  nerves  and  its  air- passages, 
have  a large  and  indispensable  share  both  in 
tasting  and  talking. 

The  tongue  is  ordinarily  the  most  abused  of 
all  the  organs  of  sense.  While  the  eye  and  the 
car  merely  suffer  from  neglect,  the  tongue  is  la- 
boriously perverted.  Its  nature,  by  the  persist- 
ent diligence  of  a malevolent  art,  is  so  totally 
changed  that  its  dislikes  become  likes,  and  its 
likes  dislikes.  Tobacco,  at  first  spat  out  with 
infinite  disgust,  is  finally  fondled  with  delight 
by  the  enslaved  tongue,  and  the  simple  food  of 
nature  is  rejected  for  the  spiced  dishes  of  art. 

The  tongue,  it  must  be  confessed,  as  the  organ 
of  material  taste,  has  no  very  dignified  function, 
and  has  reason  to  withdraw  itself  from  public 


56 


THE  TEETH. 


notice.  It  has  been  likened  to  a commissary 
general,  whose  supplies  are  necessary  to  the  ac- 
tion of  the  other  more  noble  organs,  but  whose 
sword  is  seldom  drawn,  while  its  aspect  is  by  no 
means  heroic. 

The  mouth,  however  distorted  its  form  or  pre- 
posterous  its  size,  if  it  only  shows  a range  of 
sound  and  clean  teeth,  can  scarcely  be  deemed 
ugly.  There  is  a wholesomeness  of  look  in  a 
row  of  pure  white  ivories,  set  regularly  in  a rim 
of  ruddy  coral,  which  reconciles  the  observer  to 
an  otherwise  unprepossessing  face. 

A wholesome  condition  of  the  teeth  is  not  only 
essential  to  good  looks,  but  to  daily  comfort  and 
permanent  health.  Chewing  of  the  food,  so  nec- 
essary to  a good  digestion,  can  not  be  properly 
performed  with  w^eak  and  diseased  masticators, 
which  are,  in  fact,  the  frequent  cause  of  dyspepsia 
and  other  alfections  of  the  stomach.  Local  dis- 
eases of  the  most  tormenting  kind,  such  as  tic 
doiiloiireux  and  the  various  painful  fice,  head, 
and  ear  aches,  and  disorders  of  the  eye,  as  well 
as  the  fatal  cancer  and  tedious  ulcers  of  the 
tongue  and  lips,  are  often  due  to  no  other  cause 
than  a decayed  and  ragged  tooth. 

Though  the  natural  constitution  of  the  body 
and  the  various  accidental  diseases  to  which  it 
is  liable  may  have  something  to  do  Avith  the  bad 


CAKE  OF  TEETH  IN  YOUTH. 


57 


condition  of  the  teeth,  their  ill  looks  and  decay 
are  generally  owing  to  a neglect  of  cleanliness. 
The  mischief  is  most  frequently  done  at  an  early 
age.  In  childhood  an  indifference  to  personal 
appearance,  with  that  disinclination  to  any  effort 
which  does  not  bring  immediate  pleasure,  leads 
to  a disregard  of  the  teeth.  This  occurs  just  at 
the  time  when  they  require  the  greatest  care. 
At  about  eleven  years  of  age  most  of  the  per- 
manent teeth  have  taken  the  place  of  those  of 
infancy,  which  are  called  the  deciduous^  since 
they  fall  away  or  are  absorbed  to  make  room 
for  others.  At  this  period  the  child  should  be 
compelled  to  rub  his  teeth  with  a soft  brush,  and 
rinse  his  mouth  after  each  meal.  These  simple 
means  are  all  that  are  necessary  to  purify  and 
preserve  them,  provided  the  child  makes  no  oth- 
er use  of  his  teeth  than  that  for  which  Nature 
intended  them.  The  jaws  were,  of  course,  never 
designed  for  nut-crackers,  and  the  attempt  so  to 
pervert  their  purpose  must  necessarily  prove  fa- 
tal to  the  teeth.  Though  no  perceptible  fracture 
may  be  the  immediate  result,  the  tooth  undoubt- 
edly receives  from  the  shock  of  each  crushed 
hickory  a seriously  daru.aging  effect,  either  to 
the  nerve,  the  socket,  or  the  enameled  surface 
which  covers  it.  With  due  care  of  the  teeth, 
begun  in  childhood  and  prolonged  through  life, 


58 


BEWAKE  OF  THE  DENTIST. 


any  person  may  reasonably  calculate  upon  a set, 
if  not  of  handsome,  of  useful  grinders,  to  the  end 
of  his  threescore  years  and  ten. 

The  decay  of  the  teeth  is  generally  owing  to 
the  action  of  the  acids  generated  by  the  fermen- 
tation of  the  particles  of  food  deposited  between 
them  and  at  their  roots  during  eating.  . To  pre- 
vent this,  the  obvious  w^ay  is  to  remove  these 
deposits  after  each  meal.  The  French  practice 
of  handing  round  the  toothpicks  and  mouth- 
rinsers  at  the  close  of  every  repast  is  a good  one 
for  the  teeth,  though  offensive  to  the  fastidious- 
ness of  our  manners.  All  that  w^e  have  to  say 
here  is,  that  the  sooner  the  particles  of  food  are 
picked  out  and  washed  away,  the  better.  The 
fastidious  Chesterfield  even  did  not  hesitate  to 
send  that  son,  whom  he  was  striving  so  labori- 
ously to  lick  into  shape,  “by  way  of  New-year’s 
gift,  a very  pretty  toothpick-case.” 

People  should  be  on  their  guard  against  the 
too  busy  fingers  of  the  dentist,  who  ought  not 
to  be  allowed  to  file  and  scrape  the  teeth  merely 
for  the  purpose  of  giving  them  an  artificial  reg- 
ularity and  whiteness  not  bestowed  by  Nature. 
When  there  is  actual  decay,  then,  and  not  till 
then,  should  he  be  permitted  to  make  a free  use 
of  his  instruments.  The  tartar  which  is  apt  to 
gather  at  the  root  of  the  teeth  can  be  kept  away 


EFFECT  OF  TOBACCO. 


59 


by  diligent  cleaning;  but,  if  once  allowed  to  ao 
cumulate  and  harden,  it  will  become  necessary 
to  remove  it  with  a metallic  scraper.  As  a gen 
eral  thing,  a brush  and  water,  if  used  sufficiently 
often,  will  be  all  that  are  required  for  cleaning 
the  teeth.  The  only  article  that  can  be  added 
with  safety  is  a little  good  soap,  like  the  English 
Windsor. 

We  are  sorry  to  find  that  it  is  the  belief  of 
some  dentists  that  that  vilest  of  nauseous  habits, 
tobacco-chewing,  is  favorable  to  the  preservation 
of  the  teeth.  This  has  long  been  the  apology  of 
our  Southern  and  Western  dames  for  their  foul 
but  favorite  practice  of  dipping  or  besmearing 
their  gums  and  teeth  with  snuff.  'Whatever 
good  tobacco  may  do  directly  to  the  teeth  is 
more  than  counterbalanced  by  the  indirect  in- 
jury they  receive  from  the  bodily  disorders  pro- 
duced by  the  excessive  use  of  this  popular  weed. 

There  can  be  no  question  that  much  smoking 
is  fatal,  if  not  to  the  soundness  of  the  teeth,  to 
their  good  looks,  as  it  stains  them  with  an  ashyj 
fuliginous  color. 


60 


THE  HAND. 


CHAPTER  V. 

Ihe  Hand. — Its  Beauty  and  Utility. — How  to  beautify  the 
Hand. — Care  of  the  Nails. — Hang-nails. — Snapping  of  the 
Uingers. — Dangers  of  the  Practice. — Warts. — Sweating 
of  the  Hands. — The  Foot. — The  proper  Form  of  the  Shoe. 
— The  Defects  of  the  fashionable  Shoe. — Corns. — Bun- 
ions.— Ingrowth  of  the  Nail. — A terrific  Operation. — ■ 
Sweating  of  the  Feet. 

Sir  Charles  Bell,  the  great  surgeon  and 
anatomist,  was  so  impressed  with  the  adaptation 
of  the  hand  to  the  various  uses  of  man,  that  he 
made  it  the  subject  of  the  ^‘Bridgewater”  trea- 
tise he  was  appointed  to  write.  He  could  find 
no  better  proof  of  the  manifestation  of  design  on 
the  part  of  the  Creator  throughout  the  whole 
human  structure  than  in  that  small  but  most  fin- 
ished piece  of  mechanism.  The  hand  is  indeed 
the  most  serviceable  as  well  as  graceful  instru- 
ment with  which  man  is  endowed.  It  works  so 
obediently  to  the  will  of  its  master  that  there  is 
nothing  Avithin  the  range  of  human  power  that 
it  can  not  perform.  It  records  indelibly  the 
quickest  flash  of  thought,  and  gives,  in  a deadly 
stroke,  terrible  expression  to  the  rage  of  man. 


MIGHT  OF  THE  HAND. 


61 


Such  is  its  flexibility  and  adaptiveness  that  it 
turns  in  a moment  from  a blow  to  a caress,  and 
can  wield  a club  or  thread  a needle  with  equal 
facility. 

The  hand  can  not  only  perform  faithfully  its 
own  duties,  but,  when  necessary,  will  act  for 
other  parts  of  the  human  frame.  It  reads  for 
the  blind,  and  talks  for  the  deaf  and  dumb. 
Machinery  itself  is  but  an  imitation  of  the  hu- 
man hand  on  an  enlarged  scale ; and  all  the  mar- 
velous performances  of  the  former  are  justly  due 
to  the  latter.  It  thus  not  only  thoroughly  per- 
forms its  natural  task,  but,  having  the  rare  qual- 
ity of  extending  its  powers,  enlarges  its  scope  of 
work  almost  indefinitely.  With  the  steam-en- 
gine, made  and  worked  by  itself,  the  human  hand 
executes  wonders  of  skill  and  force ; and  with 
the  electric  telegraph  it,  by  the  gentlest  touch, 
awakens  in  an  instant  the  sentiment  of  the  whole 
world  and  makes  it  kin. 

“For  the  queen’s  hand,”  says  an  elegant  writ- 
er, “ there  is  the  sceptre,  and  for  the  soldier’s 
hand  the  sword;  for  the  carpenter’s  hand  the 
saw,  and  for  the  smith’s  hand  the  hammer;  for 
the  farmer’s  hand  the  plow  ; for  the  miner’s  hand 
the  spade;  for  the  sailor’s  hand  the  oar  ; for  the 
painter’s  hand  the  brush  ; for  the  sculptor’s  hand 
the  chisel ; for  the  poet’s  hand  the  pen  ; and  for 


62 


SMALL  AND  LAUGE  HANDS. 


the  woman’s  hand  the  needle.  If  none  of  these 
or  the  like  will  fit  us,  the  felon’s  chain  should  be 
round  our  wrist,  and  our  hand  on  the  prisoner’s 
crank.”  The  hand  was  undoubtedly  made  for 
w^ork,  and  should  be  used  in  accordance  with  its 
design. 

The  labor  of  the  hand,  however,  especially 
that  of  the  lighter  kind,  \vhich  generally  falls  to 
the  lot  of  woman,  ought  not  to  prevent  a due  at' 
tention  to  the  preservation  of  all  the  grace  and 
beauty  with  which  Nature  originally  endowed 
it.  The  idea  is  prevalent  that  absolute  smalb 
ness,  without  regard  to  proportion,  is  essential 
to  the  beauty  of  a woman’s  hand.  This  keeps 
many  a young  girl  idle,  lest  by  Avork  it  should 
become  enlarged.  The  hand  Avill  undoubtedly 
increase  in  size  by  use;  but,  if  it  only  grows  in 
proportion  to  other  parts  of  the  body,  so  far  from 
this  being  an  ugliness,  it  will  be,  according  to  all 
the  laws  of  taste,  a beauty.  Fashion  alone  can 
find  grace  in  a female  hand  dwarfed  of  its  pro- 
portions by  depriving  it  of  its  natural  exercise, 
and  by  pinching  it  Avith  a too  short  and  narroAV 
glove.  Nothing  is  uglier,  except  it  be  a Chinese 
club-foot,  to  our  sight,  than  those  cramped  paAvs 
of  kid  in  A^’hich  our  fashionable  women  delight. 
All  true  artists  have  such  a horror  of  them  that 
they  avail  themselves  of  every  pretext  to  keep 


BEAUTY  OF  THE  FINGEES. 


63 


tlicm  out  of  the  pictures  of  their  female  sitters. 
The  pinching  glove,  as  generally  worn,  is  not 
only  excessively  uncomfortable,  especially  in 
cold  weather,  but  it  permanently  deforms  the 
hand,  rendering  it  lumpy  and  podgy. 

Much  can  be  done  by  care  to  beautify  the  fin- 
gers, upon  the  grace  of  which  depends  greatly 
the  beauty  of  the  whole  hand.  The  natural  ta- 
pering length  of  these  can  only  be  preserved  by 
removing  from  them  all  pinching  manacles  of  kid 
and  jewelry.  Much  of  the  beauty  of  the  finger 
depends  upon  the  proper  treatment  of  the  nails. 
These,  if  cut  too  close,  deform  the  finger-ends 
and  render  them  stubby.  The  upper  and  free 
border  of  the  nail  should  always  be  left  pro- 
jecting a line  or  so  beyond  the  extremity  of 
the  finger,  and  be  pared  only  to  a slight  curve, 
without  encroaching  too  much  on  the  angles. 
To  preserve  the  half  moon,  or  what  the  anato- 
mists call  the  lunula^  which  rises  just  above  the 
root  of  the  nail,  and  is  esteemed  so  great  a beau- 
ty, care  must  be  taken  to  keep  down  the  skin, 
which  constantly  tends  to  encroach  upon  it 
This  should  be  done  with  a blunt  ivory  instri> 
ment,  and  the  growth  gently  pushed  away,  but 
never  cut.  By  this  means,  also,  the  production 
of  the  annoying  ‘‘  hang-nail”  will  be  prevented. 
The  habit  of  filing  or  scraping  the  nails  is  fatal 


64  BITING  NAILS,  SNAPPING  FINGERS. 


to  their  perfection,  as  it  thickens  their  substance 
and  destroys  their  natural  transparency.  The 
ordinary  finger-brush  should  alone  be  used  for 
cleaning  and  polishing  the  nails.  It  is  a curious 
fact  that  Rousseau,  in  his  Confessions^  records 
the  use  of  this  simple  instrument,  now  indispen- 
sable to  every  cleanly  person,  as  proof  of  the 
excessive  coxcombry  of  his  friend,  the  courtly 
Grimm.  Thus  the  luxury  of  one  age  becomes 
the  necessity  of  another. 

The  ugly  habit  of  biting  the  nails  is  fatal  to 
their  beauty.  They  become  excessively  brittle 
in  consequence,  not  being  allowed  time  to  ac- 
quire their  natural  toughness,  and,  moreover,  the 
ends  of  the  fingers,  being  unsupported,  turn  over, 
forming  an  ugly  rim  of  hard  flesh,  which  will  pre- 
vent the  regular  growth  of  the  nail. 

Tlie  not  uncommon  practice  of  snaijping  the 
fingers,  as  it  is  termed,  is  fatal  to  their  good 
looks.  It  stretches  and  weakens  the  ligaments, 
and  so  enlarges  the  knuckles  and  joints  that  the 
whole  hand  becomes  knotty  and  of  a very  un- 
sightly appearance. 

The  wart  is  an  ugly  excrescence,  but  will  gen- 
ei*ally  disappear,  especially  from  the  hands  of  the 
young,  without  any  interference.  It  is  better 
patiently  to  await  this  result  than  to  make  use 
of  the  knife  or  the  caustic.  The  safest  of  these 


SWEATING  OF  THE  HANDS. 


65 


means  is  the  acetic  acid,  which  may  be  applied 
gently  with  a camel’s-hair  pencil,  once  each  day, 
to  the  summit  of  the  wart.  Care  should  be  tak- 
en to  prevent  this  or  any  other  powerful  acid  or 
caustic  which  may  be  used  from  touching  the 
surrounding  skin.  It  may  be  well,  for  this  pur- 
pose, to  cover  the  parts  about  the  root  of  the 
wart  with  wax  during  the  application  of  the 
remedy. 

There  is  a not  uncommon  affection  of  the 
hands,  which  the  French  might  gently  term  an 
mcommodite^  or  an  inconvenience,  but  which  is 
a serious  annoyance  to  the  afflicted.  This  is 
a moist  condition,  which  seems  to  resist  all  the 
ordinary  efforts  of  absorption.  Such  hands  are 
so  constantly  dripping  with  humidity  that  every 
thing  they  wear  or  touch  becomes  readily  satu- 
rated. The  glove  shows  the  effect  at  once  in 
ugly  stains,  and  the  bare  hand  leaves  a blur  of 
dampness  upon  every  surface  with  which  it  may 
come  in  contact.  Nothing  can  be  so  disagreea- 
ble as  a grasp  with  the  over-moist  hand. 

This  infirmity  is  not  seldom  constitutional, 
and,  though  difflcult  of  eradication,  may  be 
greatly  relieved.  Whatever  tends  to  strength- 
en the  body  will  alleviate,  if  not  entirely  rem- 
edy, the  excessive  moisture  of  the  hands.  Ex- 
orcise in  the  open  air,  cold  bathing,  a generous, 
E 


66 


NO  WELL-FOEMED  FEET. 


but  r.ot  too  stimulating  diet,  habitual  composure 
of  mind,  and  perhaps  a daily  draught  of  some 
mmeral  water  or  medicinal  dose  containing  iron, 
are  the  best  general  means  of  treatment.  The 
most  effective  local  applications  are  the  juice 
of  lemon  and  starch  powder. 

It  may  be  doubted  whether  there  exists 
throughout  the  whole  civilized  Avorld  a w^ell- 
formed  foot.  Many  exquisites  of  both  sexes 
claim  admiration  for  their  pedal  extremities, 
but  it  is  the  boots  and  shoes  Avhich  cover  them 
which  we  are  called  on  to  admire.  Their  feet, 
if  bared,  would  present  a very  great  divergence 
from  the  classical  ideal  of  beauty.  The  firmly- 
planted  foot,  neither  too  large  nor  too  small,  but 
justly  proportioned  to  the  height  and  weight  it 
sustains,  the  smooth  surface  and  regularly-curved 
lines,  the  distinctness  of  the  divisions  and  the  per- 
fect formation  of  each  toe,  wdth  its  well-marked 
separateness,  and  its  gradation  of  size  and  regu- 
larity of  detail  to  the  very  tip  of  the  nail,  are 
now  to  be  seen  only  in  art.  In  Greek  nature 
they  were  found,  for  the  ancient  sandal,  which 
left  the  foot  unfettered,  gave  freedom  to  the  de- 
velopment of  its  natural  grace  and  proportions. 
The  modern  boot  or  shoe,  with  the  prevalent  no- 
tion that  every  thing  must  be  sacrificed  to  small- 
ness, has  squeezed  the  foot  into  a lump  as  knotty 


DISTORTION  OF  THE  FEET. 


67 


and  irregular  as  a bit  of  pudding-stone,  where 
the  distorted  toes  are  so  imbedded  in  the  mass 
and  mutilated  by  the  i3ressure  that  it  is  impos- 
sible to  pick  them  out  in  the  individuality  and 
completeness  of  their  original  forms. 

The  process  of  our  dames  hardly  differs  from 
that  of  the  Chinese  women,  whose  feet,  from  the 
early  age  of  five  years,  are  so  firmly  bandaged 
that,  as  they  say  themselves,  they  become  dead. 
The  extremity  below  the  instep  is  forced  into  a 
line  Avith  the  leg,  and  two  of  the  toes  are  bent 
under  the  sole,  and  the  whole  kept  in  this  un- 
natural and  painful  position  by  leathern  thongs. 
“The  Chinese  Avomen,  rich  and  poor,  are  all,” 
says  the  traveler  Hue,  “lame;  at  the  extremity 
of  their  legs  they  haye  only  shapeless  stumps, 
ahvays  enveloped  in  bandages,  and  from  Avhich 
all  the  life  has  been  squeezed  out.” 

Young  Chinese  girls  Avho  haA^e  not  been  j^rop* 
erly  brought  up,  and  acquired  the  accomplish- 
ment of  lameness  by  means  of  a diligent  torture 
of  their  feet  from  the  earliest  childhood,  find  it 
no  easy  matter  to  get  married.  This  fashion 
of  little  feet  is  unquestionably  most  barbarous, 
absurd,  and  injurious  to  the  development  of  the 
physical  strength.  “But  Avhat  means,”  asks  the 
despairing  Hue,  “are  there  of  putting  a stop  to 
the  deplorable  practice?  It  is  decreed  by  fashion. 


68 


A PKOPER  SHOE. 


and  who  would  dare  to  resist  her  dictates?”  He 
thinks  the  Europeans  have  no  right  to  be  very 
severe  upon  the  Chinese.  We  may  say  the  same 
in  regard  to  our  American  dames,  for  do  they 
not  daily  torture  and  deform  their  feet  with 
tight  shoes,  and  resemble  in  this  respect — with 
a difference  only  in  degree — their  goat-hoofed 
sisters  of  the  Flowery  Kingdom? 

As  our  coarse  climate  forbids  the  sandal,  and 
renders  the  shoe  necessary,  care  should  be  taken 
to  adapt  it  as  perfectly  as  possible  to  the  natural 
conformation  of  the  foot.  It  should  be  long  and 
wide  enough  to  admit  of  a free  play  of  the  toes; 
the  space  between  the  heel  and  sole  of  the  shoe 
should  be  firm,  and  of  a curve  of  the  same  height 
as  the  natural  arch  of  the  foot,  while  no  part  of 
the  artificial  covering  should  be  so  binding  as  to 
prevent  the  free  action  of  the  muscles  and  the 
circulation  of  the  blood. 

The  female  shoe  or  boot  now  in  vogue  is,  in 
some  respects,  very  faulty.  It  has  but  one  good 
quality,  the  square  or  broadly-rounded  tip,  which 
is  conformable  to  the  natural  shape  of  the  end  of 
the  foot ; and  if  not  made,  as  it  generally  is,  too 
tight,  would  be  favorable  to  the  free  action  so 
essential  to  the  ease  and  beauty  of  the  toes.  The 
arch  of  the  shoe  is  too  high,  and,  pressing  strong- 
ly upward,  weakens  and  distorts  that  of  the  foot. 


A FOOT  TO  BE  KISSED. 


69 


This  defect  is  increased  by  an  inordinately  higli 
and  narrow  heel,  which  is,  moreover,  brought  too 
far  forward,  Avith  a \iew  of  giving  an  artificial 
appearance  of  shortness  to  the  extremity.  This 
position  of  the  heel  toward  the  centre  of  the  foot 
has  the  same  effect  as  if  the  buttress  of  an  archi- 
tectural arch  was  removed  from  the  end  to  its 
middle.  It  takes  away  the  strength  of  its  nat- 
ural prop,  and  makes  it  a weakness.  It  is  thus 
that  our  dames,  in  walking,  have  a hobbling  gait, 
as  if  their  feet  were  poised  upon  stilts. 

The  comfort  of  the  foot  is  only  to  be  secured 
by  a properly -made  shoe,  and  its  beauty  pre- 
served by  a freedom  from  unnatural  constraint. 
Where  is  the  modern  beauty  wlio  would  venture 
to  uncover  her  feet  before  a royal  admirer,  as  we 
are  told  Madame  de  Pomi)adour  did  not  hesitate 
to  do  ? “ That  which  especially  astonished  the 

king,”  says  her  biographer,  “was  a pair  of  pretty 
bare  feet,  worthy  of  marble  and  the  sculptor,  in 
a pair  of  the  most  rustic-looking  Avooden  shoes. 
By  a coquetry  that  AA^as  almost  artless,  the  pretty 
milkmaid  (the  marchioness  was  thus  disguised) 
))laced  one  of  her  feet  upon  the  outside  of  the 
wooden  shoe.  The  king  recognized  the  mar- 
chioness, and  confessed  to  her  that,  for  the  first 
time  in  his  life,  he  felt  the  desire  to  kiss  a pretty 
foot” 


70 


COENS  AND  BUNIONS. 


Corns  and  bunions,  those  disturbers  of  human 
comfort,  are  not  less  fatal  to  grace  than  to  ease. 
These  ugly  and  painful  excrescences  are  general- 
ly produced  by  an  ill-fitting  boot  or  shoe.  Too 
much  looseness  of  the  covering  of  the  foot,  how- 
ever, is  more  apt  to  beget  corns  and  bunions 
than  excessive  tightness.  The  clumsy,hob-nailed 
shoe  of  the  plowman,  “a  mile  too  big,”  is  oftener 
a cause  than  the  pinching  boot  of  the  exquisite. 
The  corn  and  bunion,  which  are  produced  by  fric- 
tion and  irregular  pressure,  are  to  be  permanent- 
ly eradicated  only  by  diminishing  the  one  and 
equalizing  tlie  other.  The  employment  of  a skill- 
ful and  judicious  shoemaker,  who  forms  his  shoes 
to  the  feet,  and  not  to  the  caprice  of  fashion  or 
of  the  wearer,  will  prevent  all  occasion  for  con- 
sulting the  pedicure^  or  foot-doctor.  If,  however, 
by  any  mischance,  this  best  of  all  preventives 
fails  us,  and  for  our  sins  we  become  afflicted 
with  corn  or  bunion,  our  only  resource  is  surg- 
ical treatment.  This  is  simple,  and  can  be  ap- 
plied by  most  patients  themselves.  The  excres- 
cence must  first  be  pared  down  with  a sharp 
knife,  and  then  a piece  of  amadou,  or  spunk,  as 
it  is  familiarly  called,  with  a hole  cut  in  its  cen- 
tre as  large  as  the  circumference  of  the  base  of 
the  corn,  must  be  thrust  over  it,  and  kept  in  its 
place  by  adhesive  jilastcr.  This  will  equalize 


A SEVERE  OPERATION. 


71 


the  pressure  of  the  boot  or  shoe,  and  prevent  it 
from  rubbing  upon  the  affected  part. 

The  tight  shoe  or  boot,  too  narrowly  toed,  is 
exclusively  responsible  for  that  painful  affection, 
ingrov^th  of  the  toe-nail.  If  treated  in  time,  it 
can  be  easily  and  simply  cured.  All  that  is  nec- 
essary is  to  scrape  down  the  nail  until  it  becomes 
quite  thin,  and  then  cut  the  projecting  edge  of  it 
in  a semilunar  form,  with  its  concavity  looking 
outward  from  the  foot.  The  nail  of  the  great  toe 
should  always  be  thus  pared,  care  being  taken 
not  to  clip  the  angles.  This  causes  it  to  grow 
toward  the  centre,  and  shrink  from  the  tender 
flesh  at  the  sides. 

If  the  affection  has  been  allowed  by  neglect  to 
become  inveterate,  the  surgeon  must  be  called  in, 
and  he  will  probably  resort  to  an  operation,  which, 
though  almost  bloodless,  is  considered  one  of  the 
most  painful  of  surgery.  So  painful,  indeed,  was 
it  known  to  be,  that  a famous  Parisian  surgeon, 
Velpeau,  was  in  the  habit,  before  the  discovery 
of  chloroform,  of  j^assing  a bandage  around  the 
toe,  and  directing  a strong  assistant  to  tighten 
it  with  all  his  might,  in  order  to  dull  somewhat 
the  sensibility  of  the  part.  Chloroform  now  hap- 
pily fulfills  the  blessed  service  for  the  rendering 
of  which  this  awkward  process  was  barely  a pre- 
text. Though  the  operation  has  thus  become 


72 


SWEATING  FEET. 


painless  to  the  insensible  patient,  it  has  lost  none 
of  its  horror  to  the  spectator.  The  surgeon, 
grasping  the  toe,  thrusts  the  sharp-pointed  blade 
of  a pair  of  scissors  under  the  nail  as  far  as  it  will 
go,  and  then,  cutting  it  in  two,  tears  out  each 
half  with  a pair  of  pincers  from  the  quivering 
flesh  in  which  it  has  been  long  imbedded.  No 
one,  not  even  the  slave  of  fashion,  should  submit 
to  any  form  of  the  boot  or  shoe  other  than  the 
broad-toed,  Avhich  is  fortunately  now  in  vogue. 

The  foot,  like  the  hand,  is  subject  to  the  in- 
firmity of  excessive  perspiration.  It  is  to  be 
remedied  by  the  same  general  and  local  treat- 
ment. The  habitual  daily  washing  of  the  feet 
should  be  with  cold  rather  than  with  warm 
water,  and  a powder  of  starch  or  arrowroot, 
which  it  would  be  well  to  perfume  with  bitter 
almonds,  orris,  or  some  other  no  more  intrusive 
odor,  should  be  sprinkled  in  the  inside  of  the 
stocking. 


POWEE  OF  EXPEESSION  AND  ACTION.  73 


CHAPTER  VI. 

The  Power  of  Expression  and  Action. — Freedom  and  Grace. 
— A Talleyrand  and  a Rustic  Antinous. — Lord  Chester- 
field’s awkward  Man. — Too  much  Interference. — A whole- 
some Neglect. — Ugly  Tricks  of  Expression  and  Gesture. 
— A wriggling  Nose. — The  Success  of  ugly  Men. — Sub- 
mission to  the  Laws  of  Nature. — A modern  Beauty  con- 
fronted with  the  Venus  of  Milo. — Excessive  Fatness  and 
Thinness.^ — How  to  be  Cured. — Deformities  the  Result  of 
bad  Management  in  Childhood. — Dancing. — Proper  Ex- 
ercise.— Mind  and  Body. — Freedom  from  Restraint. 

It  is  true  that  regularity  of  feature  and  just- 
ness of  proportion  are  essential  to  the  perfection 
of  grace.  It  is,  however,  no  less  true  that  ex- 
pression, action,  and  the  general  carriage  of  the 
person  have  more  to  do  with  the  figure  a man  or 
woman  may  make  in  society  than  any  original 
conformation  of  body.  The  laborer  stripped  to 
his  work  in  the  field  may  show  a form  like  that 
of  an  Antinous,  but,  placed  in  the  drawing-room 
by  the  side  of  a shriveled,  limping  Talleyrand, 
no  one  would  fail  to  recognize  the  superior  ele- 
gance of  the  cultivated  but  naturally  ill-favored 
Frenchman.  The  rustic  Antinous,  however,  if 
surveyed  among  his  native  clods,  will  probably. 


74 


A BEAUTIFUL  OBJECT. 


as  he  follows  the  plow  or  rests  upon  his  spade, 
show  a natural  grace  of  motion  and  attitude  to 
which  liis  laced  and  ruffled  victor  of  the  draw- 
ing-room could  make  no  pretensions.  On  his 
own  ground  and  in  the  performance  of  his  habit- 
ual functions  the  laborer  is  at  his. ease,  and  each 
limb  and  muscle  doing  its  allotted  duty  fully 
and  freely,  his  whole  well-proportioned  frame  ex- 
hibits all  its  natural  grace.  Transferred  to  the 
drawing-room,  he  feels  the  constraint  of  strange- 
ness, and  with  the  blankness  of  clownish  amaze- 
ment upon  his  face,  and  stiffness  in  his  joints, 
the  graceful  Antinous  of  the  plow  becomes  an 
inert  monstrosity  of  human  flesh. 

There  is  no  more  beautiful  object  in  nature 
than  a healthy,  well-formed  child  sporting  in  the 
freedom  of  infancy  and  innocence.  Let  it  be, 
however,  suddenly  placed  in  the  company  of 
strangers,  and  mark  how  awe*  shadows  the  face, 

* Hogarth,  in  his  Anahjsis  of  Beauty^  notices  this  effect 
upon  children  of  the  awe  produced  by  the  presence  of  stran- 
gers. lie  says  : “ It  is  the  cause  of  their  drooping  and  draw- 
ing their  chins  down  into  their  breasts,  and  looking  under  their 
foreheads  as  if  conscious  of  their  weakness  or  of  something 
wrong  about  them.  To  prevent  this  awkward  shyness,  par- 
ents and  tutors  are  continually  teasing  them  to  hold  up  their 
heads,  which  if  they  get  them  to  do,  it  is  with  difficulty,  and, 
of  course,  in  so  constrained  a manner  that  it  gives  the  chil- 
dren pain,  so  that  they  naturally  take  all  opportunities  of  eas- 
ing themselves  by  holding  down  their  heads,  which  posture} 


FREEDOM  OF  MOTION. 


75 


and  constraint  perverts  every  natural  motion  of 
its  flexible  body  to  distorted  action. 

A sense  of  ease  is  essential  to  a graceful  car- 
riage of  the  person,  and  this  is  chiefly  to  be  ac- 
quired by  habitual  freedom  of  motion.  All  com 
straint  is  therefore  fatal  to  it,  and  none  more  so 
than  that  which  comes  from  the  strangeness  of 
a novel  position.  Grace  of  bearing  in  society  is 
almost  impossible  without  frequent  association 
wdth  people  of  refined  manners.  ^‘Awkward- 
ness,” says  Lord  Chesterfield,  “ can  proceed  but 
from  two  causes:  either  from  not  having  kept 
good  company,  or  from  not  having  attended  to 
it and  he  shows  the  effect  in  this  expressive 
picture:  “When  an  awkward  fellow  first  comes 
into  a room,  it  is  highly  probable  that  his  sword 

would  be  full  as  uneasy  to  them  were  it  not  a relief  from  re- 
straint ; and  there  is  another  misfortune  in  holding  down  the 
head,  that  it  is  apt  to  make  them  bend  too  much  in  the  back ; 
when  this  happens  to  be  the  case,  they  then  have  recourse  to 
steel  collars  and  other  iron  machines,  all  which  shacklings 
are  repugnant  to  nature,  and  may  make  the  body  grow  crook- 
ed. This  daily  fatigue,  both  to  the  children  and  parents,  may 
be  avoided,  and  an  ugly  habit  prevented,  by  only  (at  a proper 
age)  fastening  a ribbon  to  a quantity  of  plaited  hair,  or  to 
the  cap,  so  as  it  may  be  kept  fast  in  its  place,  and  the  other 
end  to  the  back  of  the  coat,  of  such  a length  as  may  prevent 
them  drawing  their  chins  into  their  necks ; which  ribbon  will 
always  leave  the  head  at  liberty  to  move  in  any  direction  but 
this  awkward  one  they  are  apt  to  fall  into.” 


76 


THE  AWKWAED  MAN. 


gets  between  his  legs  and  throws  him  down,  or 
makes  him  stumble,  at  least.  When  ho  has  re- 
covered  this  accident,  lie  goes  and  places  him- 
self in  the  very  place  of  the  whole  room  where 
he  should  not.  There  he  soon  lets  his  hat  fall 
down,  and,  in  taking  it  up  again,  throws  down 
his  cane ; in  recovering  liis  cane,  his  hat  falls  a 
second  time,  so  that  he  is  a quarter  of  an  hour 
before  he  is  in  order  again.  If  he  drinks  tea  or 
coffee,  he  certainly  scalds  his  nrouth,  and  lets 
either  the  cup  or  the  saucer  fall,  and  spills  the 
tea  or  coffee  on  his  breeches.  At  dinner  his 
awkwardness  distinguishes  itself  particularly, 
as  he  has  more  to  do ; there  he  holds  his  knife, 
fork,  and  spoon  differently  from  other  people, 
eats  Avith  his  knife,  to  the  great  danger  of  his 
mouth,  picks  his  teeth  with  his  fork,  and  puts 
his  spoon,  which  has  been  in  his  throat  twenty 
times,  into  the  dishes  again.  If  he  is  to  carve, 
he  can  never  hit  the  joint,  but,  in  his  vain  efforts 
to  cut  through  the  bone,  scatters  the  sauce  in 
every  body’s  face.  He  generally  daubs  himself 
with  soup  and  grease,  though  his  napkin  is  com- 
monly stuck  thi'ougli  a button-hole  and  tickles 
his  chin.  When  he  drinks  he  infallibly  coughs 
in  his  glass  and  besprinkles  the  company.  Be- 
sides all  this,  he  has  strange  gestures,  such  as 
sniffing  up  his  nose,  making  faces,  putting  his 


NIMIA  DILIGENTIA. 


77 

fingers  in  his  nose  or  blowing  it,  and  looking 
afterward  in  his  handkerchief,  so  as  to  make  the 
company  sick.  His  hands  are  troublesome  to 
liim  when  he  has  not  something  in  them,  and  he 
does  not  know  where  to  put  them,  but  they  are 
in  perpetual  motion  between  his  bosom  and  his 
breeches.  He  does  not  wear  his  clothes,  and,  in 
short,  does  nothing  like  other  people.” 

Though  it  is  by  the  example  of  good  company 
that  the  outward  graces  are  chiefly  tobe  acquired, 
there  is  undoubtedly  something  to  be  learned 
from  precept.  Here,  however,  w^e  would  put  par- 
ents and  those  who  have  the  control  of  the  young 
on  their  guard  against  the  nimia  diligentia — the 
too  great  diligence,  or  excessive  interference  with 
nature,  so  emphatically  denounced  by  the  Roman 
satirist.  The  overbusy  finger  is  nowhere  more 
apparent  than  in  the  physical  rearing  of  children, 
who  are  apt  to  be  regarded  merely  as  lumps  of 
clay,  to  be  fashioned  at  the  will  of  their  parents. 
They  are,  however,  it  should  be  recollected,  liv- 
ing beings,  with  an  inherent  principle  of  growth 
Avhich  is  to  be  developed.  The  main  purpose  of 
education  should  be  to  educe  this  original  ele- 
ment, and  allow  it  all  the  expansion  of  which  it 
may  be  capable.  It  is,  however,  too  often  the 
practice  of  parents  to  do  the  reverse,  and  try  to 
mould  their  children  into  forms  of  which  Nature 
has  given  no  indication. 


78 


FREEDOM  IN  YOUTH. 


The  artificial  process  begins  as  soon  as  tlie 
child  is  born.  The  very  swaddling-clothes  are 
so  many  bonds  by  which  it  is  restrained  of  the 
natural  freedom  of  its  body,  and  its  growth  so 
directed  that  it  may  assume  a shaj)e  conforma 
ble  to  some  conventional  notion  or  other.  This 
continues  from  infancy  upward,  and  the  dress  is 
a constant  obstacle  to  the  natural  development 
of  the  physical  structure.  Until  the  mother  gets 
rid  of  the  idea  of  gimng  a form  to  her  cliild,  and 
learns  that  it  is  her  duty  to  accept  what  Nature 
bestows,  the  health  and  vigor  of  whole  gener- 
ations will  continue  to  be  sacrificed.  In  early 
youth  the  great  essential  of  physical  development 
is  freedom.  The  clothes,  accordingly,  should  be 
so  loose  as  to  allow  of  the  freest  play  of  the  very 
flexible  body  and  limbs  of  infancy  and  childhood. 
In  the  cut  of  their  garments  no  regard  should  be 
had  to  any  fashion  or  notion  of  taste  which  may 
interfere  with  ease  of  movement.  It  is  particu- 
larly important  that  there  should  be  no  obstacle 
in  early  life  to  the  natural  growth,  for  at  that  pe- 
riod the  human  structure  is  composed  of  a soft 
and  pliable  material,  Avhich  may  be  made  to  as- 
sume almost  any  shape,  however  perverted ; and 
a deformity  thus  and  then  produced  will  remain 
a deformity  forever. 

The  over-anxiety  of  fastidious  mothers  in  rc- 


CONSTRAINED  POSTURES. 


79 


gard  to  the  manners  of  their  children  leads  also 
to  an  interference  with  their  grace  and  vigor  of 
growth.  Romping  boys  and  girls  are  often 
checked  for  being  noisy,  while  they  should  be 
encouraged.  Their  racing  and  shouting  are  in- 
stinctive  efforts  at  development,  and  essential  to 
the  strength  of  lung  and  muscle.  Those  who 
are  unable  to  bear  the  noise  of  children  are  un- 
fit to  have  or  take  charge  of  them. 

The  lengthened  silence  and  constrained  pos- 
tures imposed  by  most  school-teachers  upon  their 
youthful  pupils  are  as  inhuman  as  they  are  ab- 
surd. Let  any  grown  person,  in  the  possession 
of  all  his  maturity  of  strength  and  power  of  will, 
place  himself  or  hold  a limb  in  any  fixed  po- 
sition, and  see  how  long  he  can  do  either.  The 
action,  however  easy  at  first,  is  soon,  if  perse- 
vered in,  followed  by  weariness  and  pain.  There 
is  only  a single  posture  — that  of  lying  at  full 
length — which  can  be  borne  unchanged  for  a 
long  time.  All  other  positions  of  the  body  and 
limbs  being  assumed  contrary  to  gravity,  and 
consequently  costing  an  effort  of  will  and  mus- 
cle, soon  become  wearisome,  and  finally  impossn 
ble.  Muscular  action  requires  variety  for  relief. 
It  is  contrary  to  nature,  therefore,  for  teachers 
and  parents  to  enforce  fixed  positions  upon  their 
pupils  and  children.  ‘‘Hold  up  your  h^ads  !’^ 


80 


UGLY  TEICKS. 


‘‘Sit  Straight !”  “Keep  down  your  hands !”  “Don’t 
lean  on  your  elbows !”  “ Don’t  bend  your  knees 
in  walking !”  and  the  other  importunate  com* 
mands  so  often  heard  in  the  nursery  and  school- 
room, are  not  seldom  harmful  interferences  with 
natural  action.  Nature,  after  all,  is  the  best 
posture-master,  and  gives  lessons  not  only  of 
health,  but  of  genuine  grace.  Let  parents  and 
teachers  be  less  busy,  and  leave  their  children’s 
bodies  and  limbs  at  least  to  their  natural  move- 
ments and  attitudes.  Such  an  abstinence  of 
interference  may  appear  to  careful  mothers  a 
neglect,  but  we  assure  them  that  it  would  be  a 
wholesome  neglect. 

An  awkward  carriage  or  a graceless  action, 
however,  may  become  permanent  from  careless- 
ness in  allowing  the  young  to  persist  in  ugly 
tricks  of  attitude,  gesture,  or  expression  until 
they  are  fixed  into  habits.  There  are  many  of 
the  most  offensive  practices  which  can  be  traced 
to  no  other  origin  than  this.  We  knew  an  emi- 
nent lawyer  who  had  the  ugly  habit  of  wriggling 
his  nose  in  such  a manner  that,  though  an  ora- 
tor of  unquestionable  power,  it  was  difficult  to 
check  the  disposition  to  laugh  even  during  his 
most  serious  efforts  of  eloquence,  for  his  unfor- 
tunate proboscis  seemed  always  to  become  ex- 
cited with  the  increasing  warmth  of  his  rhet- 


UGLINESS  AND  GRACE. 


81 


oric,  and  sympathetically  to  move  in  quickened 
action  with  the  hurried  How  of  his  words.  This 
unfortunate  nasal  wriggle  was  the  result  of  a 
trick  assumed  for  diversion  in  childhood,  but  so 
often  played  that  it  became  a habit  too  inveter- 
ate for  control. 

Though  any  great  deviations  from  the  aver- 
age size  of  the  human  figure  or  features  do  not 
accord  with  the  general  notion  of  beauty  and 
justness  of  proportion,  it  is  wiser,  as  well  as  more 
decorous,  to  submit  gracefully,  than  to  make  fu- 
tile attempts  to  hide  or  correct  them.  The  short- 
ness of  Chesterfield,  the  fatness  of  Fox,  and  the 
lameness  of  Talleyrand  did  not  prevent  them 
from  shining  as  exemplars  of  grace  and  courte- 
sy. Three  of  the  ugliest  men  who  ever  lived, 
Mirabeau,  Wilkes,  and  Burr,  had  so  far  the  pow- 
er of  pleasing  that  few  have  ever  equaled  them 
ill  gaining  the  favors  of  the  most  beautiful  av om- 
en. 

As  no  one  of  common  decency  will  refer  to  the 
natural  infirmity  of  any  person,  so  the  afflicted 
should  make  no  allusion  to  it,  as  is  too  often  done, 
for  they  only  shoAV,  Avhile  pretending  to  indiffcD 
ence,  an  excessive  suscej)tibility. 

Good  sense,  and,  therefore,  good  taste,  for  they 
are  inse^Darably  united,  dictate  submission  to  the 
laws  of  Nature.  All  interference,  consequently, 
F 


82 


A COMPARISON. 


with  the  natural  organization  of  the  body  should, 
as  a general  rule,  be  avoided. 

Women  have  been  so  often  and  emphatically 
reminded  of  the  dangers  of  tight  lacing  that  it 
is  marvelous  that  they  should  persist  in  a prac- 
tice which  they  all  must  know  to  be  at  the  risk 
of  their  lives.  Nothing  can  better  show  the 
power  of  arbitrary  Fashion  than  the  subjection 
of  its  slaves  to  this  torture  of  the  frame,  as  fa- 
tal to  beauty  as  to  health.  In  reducing  the 
centre  of  the  body  to  an  almost  impalpable 
tenuity,  while  they  laboriously  strive,  by  bulg- 
ing cotton,  crinoline,  and  outworks  of  whalebone 
and  wire,  to  give  an  unnatural  fullness  to  otlier 
parts  of  the  figure  to  which  Nature  has  refused 
its  fair  share  of  substance,  they  set  at  defiance 
all  the  laws  of  proportion.  As  we  stood  admir- 
ing that  most  perfect  conception  of  female  grace, 
the  Venus  of  Milo,  in  the  Louvre,  we  took  from 
the  fair  woman  hanging  to  our  arm  her  pocket- 
handkerchief,  and  made  a comparative  measure- 
ment of  the  ancient  and  modern  beauties.  This 
was  the  result : the  Avaist  of  the  statue  measured 
32  inches  in  circumference,  and  the  foot  11  inches 
in  length.  The  waist  of  the  living  Avoman  could 
barely,  with  all  the  aid  of  corset  and  the  various 
layers  of  dress,  expand  to  a circumference  of  24 
inches,  while  her  foot,  Avuth  shoe  and  all,  was  less 


AFRICAN  TASTE. 


83 


than  9 inches  in  length.*  With  these  special 
diminutions,  the  modem  beauty,  however,  was 
by  no  means  generally  of  dwarfish  proportions, 
and  might,  within  her  crinoline  and  Parisian 
width  of  drapery,  have  enveloped  a whole  brood 
of  Venuses. 

There  are  certain  conditions  of  the  human 
frame  which  are  due  to  artificial  habits  of  life. 
An  excessive  fatness  or  meagreness  may,  for  ex- 
ample, be  produced  by  the  diet  or  regimen.  In 
such  a case  it  is  obviously  not  improper  to  alter 
them,  if  thereby  the  undesirable  state  of  the 
body  can  be  modified.  If  over-eating  or  over- 
drinking bloats  the  face  and  expands  unduly 
the  girth,  it  is  undoubtedly  right  to  qualify  the 
strength  of  the  wine  and  curtail  the  length  of 
the  dinner- courses.  People,  however,  who  are 
constitutionally  fat  or  thin,  will  find  the  attempt 
to  shrink  or  expand  themselves  seldom  success- 
ful, and  not  always  safe. 

A certain  plumpness  is  essential  to  the  beauty 
of  the  female  form ; but  its  excess  is  not  consid- 
ered  with  us,  at  least,  as  an  addition  to  the  charms 
of  woman.  Africa  alone,  of  all  nations — though 
Turkey  has  a leaning  that  way — sets  up  fatness 
as  a standard  of  beauty.  Cufiey  expands  female 

These  measurements  are  in  proportion  to  a length  of 
stature  of  5 feet  4 inches,  which  was  that  of  the  living  person. 


84 


CAUSE  OF  FATNESS. 


loveliness  beyond  the  limits  of  the  embrace  of 
any  ordinary  mortal,  lards  it  with  layers  of  fat, 
like  a plump  partridge  prepared  for  the  spit,  and 
feasts  his  dainty  imagination  upon  the  oleaginous 
charms  of  female  blubber.  The  Hottentot  Venus 
suckled  her  young  over  her  shoulder,  and  carried 
the  rest  of  her  family  upon  her  natural  bustle.  Jt 
is  not  often  that  our  women,  who  are  generally 
too  nimble  in  mind  and  body  for  its  accumula- 
tion, complain  of  fat.  Some  people,  however, 
have  a great  tendency  to  it.  This  is  often  he- 
reditary, and  shows  itself  in  childhood.  There 
are  certain  circumstances,  moreover,  which  great- 
ly favor  the  development  of  fatness,  whether  orig- 
inal or  acquired.  Such  are  a sedentary  life,  hab- 
its  of  indulgence,  want  of  light,  frequent  and  pro- 
longed slumber,  and  physical  and  moral  indo- 
lence. A life  of  wantonness  and  idleness  is  said 
to  be  the  cause  of  the  plumpness  of  the  women 
of  the  East,  and  there  is  no  reason  why  it  should 
not  have  the  same  effect  upon  those  of  the  West. 

The  food,  however,  has  more  influence  than 
any  thing  else  upon  the  plumpness  of  the  body, 
and  the  efiect  of  quality  is  greater  than  that  of 
quantity.  Bread,  butter,  milk,  sugar,  potatoes, 
beer,  and  all  spirituous  liquors,  are  particularly 
fattening.  The  women  of  Senegal  expand  to  an 
extraordinary  degi'ee  of  plenitude,  in  the  course 


CUEE  OF  FATNESS. 


85 


of  a few  months  only,  by  gorging  themselves 
with  fresh  dates.  Any  woman  who  is  troubled 
with  a superfluity  of  fat,  and  wishes  to  get  rid  of 
it,  can  succeed  by  persevering  in  a certain  diet 
and  regimen.  She  must  live  in  a warm  and  dry 
climate,  avoid  those  articles  of  diet  which  are 
especially  fat-producing,  and  eat  those  which  are 
not,  with  a plentiful  supply  of  acids,  lead  an  act- 
ive life,  with  brisk  exercise  both  of  body  and 
mind,  lie  on  a hard  bed,  and  never  remain  on  it 
long.  To  these  may  be  added,  with  advantage, 
frequent  rubbing  of  the  body  Avith  a rough  towel 
or  brush,  an  occasional  laxative,  alkaline,  sea,  and 
vapor  baths,  with  shampooing  or  kneading  of  the 
flesh.  Iodine  has  been  occasionally  given  and 
found  useful.  Banting,  an  Englishman,  at  the 
age  of  sixty-six  years  reduced  himself  from  tAvo 
hundred  and  two  pounds  (202  lbs.)  to  one  hun- 
dred and  fifty-six  (156  lbs.)  in  tAventy  days  by 
the  following  diet  and  regimen:  For  breakfast, 
4 or  5 ounces  of  beef,  mutton,  kidneys,  bacon,  or 
cold  meat  of  any  kind,  with  the  exception  of  fresh 
pork ; a large  cup  of  tea,  Avithout  sugar  or  milk, 
a small  biscuit,  or  an  ounce  AA^eight  of  toast.  For 
dinner,  5 or  6 ounces  of  fish  (no  salmon)  or  meat 
(no  fresh  pork) ; all  kinds  of  A^egetables  except 
potatoes ; an  ounce  of  toast ; the  fruit,  but  not 
the  paste  of  a tart;  poultry,  game  ; tAvo  or  three 


86 


THINNESS. 


glasses  of  good  claret,  sherry,  or  Madeira,  but  no 
Champagne,  port  wine,  or  beer.  For  tea,  2 or  3 
ounces  of  fruit,  about  an  ounce  of  toast,  and  a 
cup  of  tea  without  sugar  or  milk.  For  supper, 
3 or  4 ounces  of  such  meat  or  fish  as  at  dinner, 
with  one  or  two  glasses  of  claret.  Before  going 
to  bed,  if  required,  a glass  of  claret  or  sherry. 
This  j)lan  of  Banting  has  been  tried  again  and 
again  with  advantage,  and  without  the  least  un- 
favorable accident. 

If  there  are  some  persons  who  are  anxious  to 
get  rid  of  fat,  there  are  many  more,  particularly 
in  our  country,  who  are  desirous  of  acquiring  it. 
Thinness  is  by  no  means  the  sign  of  a bad  con- 
stitution. On  the  contrary,  it  often  belongs  to 
the  most  vigorous  of  our  ]*ace.  There  are,  more- 
over, some  charming  women,  who,  though  en- 
dowed with  every  other  personal  attraction,  are 
destitute  of  that  fullness  essential  to  the  perfec- 
tion of  the  female  form.  Such,  instead  of  griev- 
ing over  an  organic  defect,  and  resorting  to  use- 
less and  often  injurious  means  to  remedy  it, 
should  console  themselves  with  their  natural 
fineness  of  structure,  lightness  of  movement,  and 
the  use  of  such  resources  as  are  furnished  by  a 
skillful  toilet.  A regular  life,  great  moderation 
in  pleasure,  the  avoiding  of  all  social  and  other 
dissipation,  moderate  exercise,  light  occupation, 


CAUSE  AND  CURE  OF  THINNESS. 


87 


freedom  from  nervous  excitement,  plenty  of  sleep, 
and  a tranquil  and  contented  spirit,  will  tend  to 
give  flesh  to  the  most  meagre.  To  these  must 
be  added  a generous  diet  of  meat,  vegetables, 
farinaceous  food  of  all  kinds,  and  a modemte 
quantity  of  beer  or  wine.  Fresh  milk,  taken 
early  in  the  morning,  is  said  to  have  a very  fat- 
tening eflect,  and  frequent  warm  baths,  either 
simple  or  emollient,  are  indispensable. 

Dr.  Cazenave  says  that  there  is  nothing  more 
likely  to  produce  excessive  thinness  than  im- 
moderate love,  and  especially  jealousy.  Saint 
Augustine,  as  quoted  by  Fenelon,  in  his  treatise 
on  the  education  of  girls,  says : ‘‘  I have  seen  a 
baby  in  arms  jealous;  it  could  not  pronounce  a 
single  word,  and  already  regarded  with  a pale 
face  and  angry  eyes  another  infant  who  Avas  be- 
ing suckled  at  the  same  time  with  it.”  This  in 
fantile  jealousy  is  said  to  be  a not  uncommon 
cause  of  the  wasting  away  of  the  youngest  chil- 
dren. Care,  therefore,  should  be  taken  to  avoid 
exciting  this  pernicious  passion  by  a just  dis- 
tribution of  care  and  caress  among  brothers  and 
sisters. 

Ugly  deformities  are  not  seldom  the  result  of 
placing  children  at  the  table  in  chairs  of  unsuit- 
able height.  If  the  chair  is  too  low,  the  arms 
are  raised  so  high  as  to  cause  an  unsightly  ele- 


88 


UGLY  GAIT. 


vation  of  the  shoulders,  and  a consequent  sink* 
ing,  as  it  were,  of  the  head.  Should  the  chair, 
on  the  contrary,  be  too  high,  there  must  be  a 
bending  of  the  neck  and  upper  part  of  the  body, 
which,  if  the  cause  continues  long  enough,  will 
finally  produce  a permanent  stoop  of  the  shoul- 
ders. The  chair  of  the  child  should  be  of  just 
the  height  to  bring  the  elbows,  in  their  natural 
position,  to  a level  with  the  table.  A too  yield- 
ing seat,  moreover,  is  bad,  as  it  permits  the  sink- 
ing of  the  head  between  the  shoulders,  and  a 
general  drooping  of  the  body.  A firm  wooden 
bottom,  or,  if  not  easily  borne,  a carefully  stuff- 
ed hair  cushion  should  be  supplied,  and  so  ar- 
ranged that  it  may  be  raised  or  depressed  to 
adapt  it  to  the  size  of  the  child,  or  the  position 
of  the  chair  at  a table  or  elsewhere.  The  lifting 
or  suspension  of  children  by  leading-strings  is 
apt  to  cause  that  ugliest  of  deformities,  the  sink- 
ing of  the  neck  between  the  shoulders. 

An  ugly  gait  is  often  acquired  in  childhood, 
which  may  continue  throughout  life,  by  the  habit 
which  careless  or  imi^atient  parents  or  nurses 
have  of  dragging  along  the  little  ones  they  are 
conducting,  and  forcing  their  toddling  stejDS  to 
keep  pace  with  their  own  striding  walk. 

In  old  times  dancing  was  regarded  riot  only 
as  an  elegant  accomplishment,  but  as  the  only 


DANCING. 


89 


means  for  acquiring  the  fine  and  graceful  gait 
suitable  for  the  genteel  walks  of  life.  Locke,  in 
his  Treatise  on  Education,  says:  ‘‘Dancing,  be- 
ing that  Avhich  gives  graceful  motion  to  all  our 
limbs,  and,  above  all  things,  manliness,  and  a be- 
coming confidence  to  young  children,  I think  can 
not  be  learned  too  early.  Nothing  appears  to 
me  to  give  children  so  much  confidence  and  be- 
havior, and  so  to  raise  them  to  the  conversation 
of  those  above  their  years,  as  dancing.” 

No  one,  we  suppose,  in  these  liberal  days, 
strenuously  opposes  dancing  if  properly  regu- 
lated, which  it  seldom  is.  Our  young  folks,  en- 
couraged by  their  genteel  mammas,  cultivate  it 
as  diligently  as  if  they  thought,  Avith  the  danc- 
ing-master in  Molicu'e’s  comedy,  that,  though  phi- 
losophy might  possibly  be  something,  there  was 
nothing  so  necessary  to  mankind  as  dancing.  It 
is  well,  perhaps,  that  our  little  masters  and  miss- 
es should  subject  their  flexible  feet  and  limbs  to 
a course  of  lessons  under  the  fiddle-boAV  of  the 
dancing-master,  and  keep  themselves  in  training 
by  an  occasional  quadrille  or  Avaltz.  They  may 
thus  learn  to  walk  their  genteel  parts  in  life  Avith 
a more  assured  ease  and  grace.  We  can  not, 
however,  see  the  necessity  of  dancing  the  Ger- 
man from  midnight  to  four  o’clock  in  the  morn- 
ing, six  days  out  of  the  seven  of  each  Aveek.  On 


90 


UNHEALTHY  DANCING. 


the  contrary,  it  is  quite  apparent  to  us  that  this 
is  an  excess  which  is  wholesome  neither  for  body 
nor  mind.  It  is  debauchery,  not  social  enjoyment; 
and,  while  it  may  be  favorable  to  freedom  of  com- 
munion and  ease  of  manners,  is  conducive  neither 
to  a graceful  address  nor  a decorous  behavior. 

Dancing  is  a gentle  exercise,  favorable  to  the 
health  and  graceful  development  of  the  body, 
but,  like  all  physical  exercises,  must  be  23ursued 
at  seasonable  times,  and  under  such  circum- 
stances as  are  dictated  by  nature,  or  it  Avill  be- 
come hurtful.  With  every  additional  move- 
ment of  the  limbs  the  resj^iration  is  increased, 
and  the  lungs  take  in  a larger  supply  of  air; 
and  this,  if  not  pure,  Avill  act  upon  the  system 
with  the  virulence  of  a poison.  We  need  hard- 
ly say,  what  must  be  obvious  to  every  one  who 
has  breathed  it,  that  the  atmosphere  of  the 
crowded  ball-room  is  not  in  the  condition  suit- 
able to  health.  The  apartment  is  necessarily 
closed  to  the  severe  cold  of  the  winter,  and  each 
one  of  the  dense  throng  which  usually  gathers 
at  these  fashionable  dancing-parties  is  breathing 
fast  under  the  general  agitation  of  the  dance  and 
excitement.  The  pure  air  which  may  have  at 
first  existed  is  sucked  up  at  once,  and  all,  having 
eagerly  consumed  the  vital  element  of  oxygen  it 
possesses,  send  it  back  Avith  the  poisonous  com 


FASHIONABLE  DANCING. 


91 


stitiient  of  carbonic  acid  gas.  The  whole  room 
thus  soon  becomes  filled  with  an  atmosphere  so 
vitiated  that  to  breathe  the  least  of  it  is  inju- 
rious, and  certainly  the  less  of  it  taken  in  by  the 
human  lungs  the  better.  The  dancers,  however, 
by  their  quickened  motion  and  necessarily  in- 
creased respiration,  are  absorbing  the  most  of 
the  poison,  while  at  the  same  time  each  one  is 
adding  to  its  virulence.  When  the  air  is  impure, 
the  greater  safety  is  in  repose  than  in  movement. 
Better  no  exercise  at  all  than  exercise  in  a poi- 
sonous atmosphere,  such  as  must  be  breathed  by 
our  party-going  beaux  and  belles  six  nights  of 
the  week  out  of  the  seven. 

The  exercise  of  dancing  under  these  circum- 
stances becomes  a source,  as  we  all  know,  of 
prostration  and  ill  health.  No  frequenter  of  the 
crowded  ball  will  pretend  that  he  or  she,  after 
a long  night’s  indulgence  in  its  debaucheries, 
sleeps  more  soundly,  awakes  more  refreshingly, 
and  resumes  the  duties  or  labors  of  the  day  with 
a lighter  step  and  a livelier  spirit.  The  looks 
are  certainly  not  improved.  Whatever,  there- 
fore, may  be  said  in  favor  of  fashionable  dancing 
as  a social  element,  it  can  not  be  justified  as  an 
exercise  favorable  to  the  health  or  beauty  of  the 
body. 

The  best  physical  discipline  is  to  be  found  in 


92 


PLEASURE  WITH  EXERCISE. 


legular  and  cheerful  exercise  in  the  open  air. 
Those  sports,  which  are  often  termed  manly,  but 
are  no  less  womanly,  as  riding,  boating,  balh 
playing,  and  brisk  walking,  are  the  best  means 
of  not  only  giving  strength  to  the  body,  but  en- 
duing it  with  grace  of  form  and  motion. 

Such  is  the  intimate  relation  between  the  body 
and  mind  that  it  is  impossible  to  do  any  good  to 
either  unless  the  actions  of  both  are  kept  in  har- 
mony.  This  truth  is  well  demonstrated  by  the 
utter  uselessness  of  all  physical  exercise  for 
health’s  sake,  and,  we  may  say,  for  beauty’s  sake 
too,  unless  accompanied  by  a wholesome  mental 
activity.  Let  any  one,  while  depressed  in  mind, 
test  his  muscular  power,  and  he  will  soon  find 
how  little  able  and  disposed  he  is  to  use  it.  On 
the  other  hand,  if  he  exerts  his  physical  strength 
when  under  the  animating  influence  of  pleasur- 
able emotions,  he  is  scarcely  conscious  of  the  ef- 
fort. If  physical  exercise  is  persisted  in  with  the 
indisposition  and  incapacity  for  it  that  come  from 
mental  depression,  the  result  is  an  excessive  pros- 
tration, wdiich  is,  of  course,  injurious  to  the  health 
of  the  body.  On  the  contrary,  the  exertion  of  the 
muscular  force,  stimulated  and  supported  by  a 
cheerful  mind,  can  be  continued  almost  indefi- 
nitely, Avith  the  good  effect  of  giving  increased 
vigor  to  the  whole  human  system. 


PKOPER  EXERCISE. 


93 


All  plans  of  exercise  should  be  based  upon  a 
regard  to  the  harmonious  action  of  mind  and 
body.  The  solitary  “ constitutional”  walk,  as  it 
is  called,  taken  for  health’s  sake,  is  of  no  benefit, 
for  it  can  be  seldom  varied,  and  does  not  supply 
diversion  to  the  mind,  which  continues  to  fret 
itself  and  weary  the  body.  Horseback  exercise 
is  much  superior,  for  the  reason  that  in  the  man- 
agement of  the  beast  there  is  necessarily  a con- 
stant call  upon  the  attention  which  keeps  the 
mental  faculties  occupied,  and  thus  relieves  them 
of  all  depressing  and  exhausting  influences. 

Those  sports  requiring  physical  effort  and  the 
open  air  are  excellent  for  health,  as  they  occupy 
the  mind  pleasurably  at  the  same  time  that  they 
exercise  the  body.  It  is  surprising  how  much 
work  can  be  got  out  of  the  muscles  when  stimu- 
lated to  action  by  agreeable  emotion.  When 
the  mind  is  cheerful,  and  thus  emancipated  from 
care,  the  limbs  become  freer  of  movement,  and 
of  course  all  the  motions  and  attitudes  are  more 
unconstrained  and  graceful.  A child  ivill  run, 
and  climb,  and  tumble,  and  shout,  and  indulge 
in  boisterous  effort  of  all  kinds  the  whole  day, 
describing  in  his  vagaries  endless  lines  of  beau- 
ty, apparently  without  any  fatigue,  while  en- 
gaged in  play  with  his  fellows  ; but  let  him  take 
the  shortest  and  most  composed  walk  with  an 


94 


BOOTS  OF  IRON. 


elder,  and  he  will  hardly  step  a dozen  paces  be^ 
fore  he  begins  to  lag  back  in  weariness. 

The  great  point  to  be  considered  in  any  plans 
of  exercise  for  the  sake  of  health  and  grace  is 
the  intimate  alliance  between  body  and  mind, 
and  the  necessity  of  providing  simultaneously 
for  the  occupation  of  both.  It  matters  little  how 
the  muscles  are  put  into  action ; but  that  form 
of  physical  exercise  is  the  best  which  is  accom- 
panied by  the  most  agreeable  mental  emotions. 
Pleasant  company  will  give  a refreshing,  Avhole- 
some,  and  graceful  effect  to  a long  walk,  ^vhich, 
if  taken  alone,  would  only  be  stiff,  wearisome,  and 
weakening. 

It  is  a mistake  to  suppose  that  by  any  kind  of 
fixed  physical  restraint  the  human  figure  can  be 
moulded  into  beauty,  or  its  movements  turned 
to  grace.  The  surgeon  nowadays  condemns  en- 
tirely the  bands,  stocks,  and  torturing  collars, 
and  boots  of  iron,  with  which  it  was  once  the 
custom  to  strive  in  vain  to  bend  and  twist  the 
youthful  twig,  and  give  it  a desirable  growth  of 
manly  or  womanly  grace.  Where  there  is  even 
a natural  deformity,  as,  for  example,  in  the  com- 
mon bandy  leg,  it  is  found  that  it  is  more  likely 
to  be  righted  if  left  to  the  natural  movement 
and  growth  of  the  body  than  if  controlled  by  ar- 
tificial means. 


A REMEDY  FOR  CROOKEDNE3S. 


95 


The  straightness  of  the  trunk  of  the  body  of 
the  negro  woman  of  our  country  and  the  peas- 
ant of  Germany  has  often  been  noticed,  and  may 
be  attributed  perhaps  to  the  habit  common  to 
both  of  carrying  weights  upon  the  head.  Where 
there  is  a tendency  in  young  girls  to  a stoop  in 
the  shoulders,  it  may  be  well  to  cause  them  to 
balance  frequently  upon  their  heads  a book,  or 
some  other  object,  taking  care,  however,  that  it 
shall  not  be  too  heavy,  for  the  excessive  loads 
borne  by  the  German  women,  though  they  nec- 
essarily give  straightness  to  the  back,  produce 
deformity  in  other  parts. 


96 


AMERICAN  EASK 


CHAPTER  Vn. 

American  Ease. — Propriety  of  Posture. — A well-bred  Person 
not  Demonstrative. — Fuss, — Its  Discomforts  and  Indeco- 
ronsness. — The  Free  andP^asy. — The  Prim. — Fault  of  the 
American  AYalk. — Inelegant  Attitudes  and  Gestures. 

With  all  the  faults  of  manner  of  the  American, 
no  one  would  think  of  charging  him  with  a w^ant 
of  ease.  Generally  feeling  at  home  wherever  he 
goes,  he  is  as  apt  to  be  “ hale  fellow  well  met” 
with  the  king  on  his  throne  as  with  the  lackey 
at  the  palace  door.  He  is  not  likely  to  be  taken 
to  account  for  too  much  stiffness  of  body  and  for- 
mality of  address.  His  facility  of  converse  and 
flexibility  of  limb  are  proverbial,  and  few  can 
equal  him  in  expansiveness  of  sprawl,  reach  of 
boot,  and  readiness  of  “jaw.”  He  is  unapproach- 
able as  an  acrobat,  and  his  fine  chair  balance,  or 
trick  of  heels  up  and  head  down,  can  not  be  sur- 
passed by  any  performer  on  the  social  stage. 
When  he  presents  himself,  he  is  not  unlike  the 
clown  of  our  early  remembrance,  who  came  with 
a run,  a spring,  a somersault,  and  the  shout  “ Here 
I am !” 

We  think  that  many  of  our  countrymen  and 


6PBAWLIKG. 


9\ 


countrywomen  might  be  improved  by  more  re- 
serve of  manner  and  less  flexibility  of  limb. 
Americans  can  dispense  with  much  freedom  of 
movement  and  looseness  of  posture,  as  indeed  of 
ease  of  address,  without  any  risk  of  incurring  the 
imputation  of  being  prigs.  In  society  ordinarily 
termed  good,  it  is  not  customary  to  sit  upon 
more  than  one  chair  at  a time,  nor  is  the  mantel- 
piece regarded  as  the  proper  place  for  the  feet, 
however  well  turned  the  boot  or  delicately  made 
the  shoe.  Sprawling  of  all  kinds  is  avoided  by 
well-bred  people,  who  shun  excessive  ease  as 
much  as  excessive  formality.  It  may  not  be 
amiss  to  remind  the  heedless  and  the  young 
that,  on  entering  the  room  of  the  house  of  a 
stranger  or  that  of  a visiting  acquaintance,  it  is 
not  becoming  to  throw  themselves  at  once  on 
the  sofa  and  stretch  out  their  legs,  or  into  the 
Voltaire  or  easy-chair,  and  sink  into  its  luxu- 
rious depths.  The  common  seat  will  be  select- 
ed by  the  considerate,  and  all  the  exceptional 
provisions  for  extra  ease  and  comfort  left  un- 
touched until  the  invitation  to  enjoy  them  is 
given. 

A well-bred  person  is  ordinarily  disinclined  to 
make  a public  demonstration  of  his  most  affec- 
tionate feelings  and  tenderest  sentiments.  He 
therefore  rarely  kisses,  w^eeps,  embraces,  or  sighs 
a 


OS 


FUSS. 


before  strangers  or  formal  acquaintances.  Fuss 
is,  above  all  things,  his  horror,  and  he  strives  to 
check  every  noisy  or  uneasy  indication  of  emo- 
tion and  passion. 

It  has  always  been  considered  by  the  best-bred 
people  that  fuss  of  any  kind  was  inconsistent  with 
good  manners.  The  English  aristocracy,  howev- 
er unworthy  of  imitation  in  some  respects  many 
may  deem  them,  are  universally  regarded  as  safe 
examples  to  follow  in  all  matters  of  ceremonious 
behavior.  Well,  there  is  nothing  a ‘‘My  Lord” 
or  “My  Lady”  so  studiously  avoids  as  fuss. 

Quietness  in  all  things  is  an  essential  element 
of  a well-bred  English  person.  He  shuns  all  out- 
ward display  of  his  personality.  He  cares  not 
to  be  seen  or  heard,  and  rests  content  wdth  being 
felt  as  a power  in  the  land.  He  thus  not  only 
eschews  noisy  and  grandiloquent  talk,  but  all 
showy  and  noticeable  costume.  His  voice  is  low', 
his  words  simple,  his  action  grave,  and  his  dress 
plain.  He  holds  himself  so  habitually  under  con- 
straint that  his  nerves  never  seem  to  vibrate 
W'ith  emotion.  He  becomes,  as  it  were,  an  im- 
passible being,  upon  whom  no  external  cause 
seems  capable  of  making  an  impression. 

We  do  not  wish  to  hold  up  the  Lord  Dun- 
drearys  as  models  to  our  republican  citizens  to 
mould  themselves  by.  The  unemotional  English- 


FUSS  FATAL  TO  COMFORT. 


99 


man,  in  his  excess  of  impassibility,  is  a cold,  un- 
feeling person,  and  only  interesting  as  a humor- 
ous exaggeration  in  a farce.  We  do  not  desire 
that  our  red-hot  enthusiasts  should  be  cooled 
down  to  the  extreme  degree  of  that  frigid  John 
Bull  who  could  look  into  the  crater  of  Mount  Ve- 
suvius and  see  “ nothing  in  it,”  or  quietly  scan 
with  his  glass  a drowning  fellow-mortal,  and  re- 
fuse to  lend  him  a helping  hand  because  he  had 
never  been  introduced  to  him.  There  is  a wide 
range  of  the  moral  thermometer  between  the 
zero  of  English  frigidity  and  the  usual  high  de- 
gree of  American  ebullition. 

There  is  this  obvious  advantage  in  habitually 
checking  the  tendency  to  excitement,  that  we 
acquire  such  a control  over  our  emotions  that,  in 
cases  of  emergency,  our  reason  is  left  free  to  act. 
The  film  of  feeling  is  removed  from  the  eye,  and 
the  nature  of  the  danger  is  clearly  discerned.  An 
excited  person  is  always  moving  in  a fog,  and  he 
may  at  any  time  plunge  into  a quagmire  or  fall 
headlong  down  a precipice. 

Fuss  is  a great  obstacle  to  comfort.  Its  effect 
is  not  only  to  heighten  the  unavoidable  miseries 
of  life,  but  to  create  unnecessary  ones.  Its  in- 
fluence is  chiefly  apparent  in  the  small  annoy- 
ances of  daily  existence.  The  heavy  strokes  of 
fate  fall  with  such  a crushing  force  upon  the 


100 


A FUSSY  HOUSEKEEPEE. 


sensibility  that  it  becomes  at  once  too  prostrate 
to  be  capable  of  fuss.  Grief  subdues  and  makes 
silent,  but  vexation  excites  and  creates  noise. 

It  is  astonishing  how  much  misery — small, 
perhaps,  in  detail,  but  immense  in  the  aggregate 
— is  voluntarily  imposed  upon  self  and  others  by 
fussy  people.  Take,  for  example,  the  grossly 
exaggerated  if  not  entirely  simulated  maladies 
which  the  fashionable  doctors  tell  us  form  two 
thirds  of  their  cases.  What  a fuss  is  made  by 
the  pretended  victims ! and  who  can  measure 
the  degree  of  real  suifering  they  inflict  upon 
others  ? How  often  are  whole  families,  and  even 
communities,  made  miserable  by  these  chronic 
complainers,  who  not  seldom  survive  long  enough 
to  worry  out  of  existence  several  generations 
by  unnecessary  fuss  1 

Fuss  is  vulgarly  supposed  to  be  essential  to  a 
good  housekeeper.  It  is  not  really  so,  for  quiet 
is  as  necessary  to  excellence  of  housewifery  as 
smoothness  of  work  to  goodness  of  machinery. 
It  is  quite  a mistake  to  suppose  that  the  una- 
voidable misery  of  “ washing  day”  is  more  ef 
fectually  got  over  by  fussing  about  it  the  whole 
week  before  and  after.  It  is  no  less  so  to  imag- 
ine that  the  necessary  evil  of  house-cleaning,  or 
pickling,  or  any  other  domestic  trial  of  period- 
ical occurrence,  is  to  be  endured  more  j)atiently 


AMERICAN  FLEXIBILITY. 


101 


by  twelve  months  of  daily  anticipatory  fussing. 
We  doubt,  moreover,  whether  we  get  a perfect 
and  agreeable  idea  of  cleanliness  when  constant- 
ly  reminded,  by  the  ever-present  wet  clouts, 
scrubbing-brushes,  soap-suds,  bare  floors,  and  un- 
carpeted staircases,  of  the  ceaseless  eflbrts  of  a 
fussy  housekeeper. 

There  is  nothing  more  fatal  to  comfort  as  well 
as  to  decorum  of  behavior  than  Fuss. 

The  excessive  flexibility  of  limb  which  dis- 
tinguishes the  American  shows  itself  in  the  free 
use  of  his  hands  and  arms,  as  well  as  legs  and 
feet.  He  no  sooner  finds  himself  in  the  presence 
of  a stranger  than  he  coils  his  arms  about  his 
body  and  squeezes  him  into  an  appreciation  of 
the  warmth  of  his  friendship,  or  awakens  him 
by  a sharp  slap  upon  the  back  into  a sudden 
consciousness  of  its  strength.  “Hands  off!”  may 
be  seen  by  a discerning  person,  as  clearly  as  if 
the  ^vords  were  printed,  to  be  posted  all  over 
well-bred  people.  There  is  nothing  a fastidious 
person  dislikes  so  much  as  the  careless  or  inten- 
tional touch  of  the  stranger.  It  behooves  every 
one,  therefore,  to  keep  his  eyes  open,  that  he  may 
read  this  warning,  and  recollect  that  he  has  no 
right  of  common  in  the  shoulders  of  every  fel- 
low-mortal he  meets,  however  broad  and  easy 
of  approach  they  may  be. 


102 


AMEKICAN  PEIMNESS. 


Of  course  it  is  not  to  be  inferred  that,  though 
the  “free  and  easy”  may  be  the  characteris- 
tic defect  of  the  manners  of  most  Americans, 
there  are  not  some  to  be  found  whose  prevailing 
fault  is  the  reverse  of  an  unconstrained  ease. 
There  are  occasional  persons  to  be  seen,  especial- 
ly in  the  eastern  parts  of  our  broad  territory, 
whose  practice,  at  any  rate,  if  not  theory,  is  by 
no  means  in  the  direction  of  Hogarth’s  wavy 
line  of  beauty.  These  good  people  of  genuine 
Puritan  descent  have  somehow  or  other  con* 
founded  morals  with  physics,  and  seemingly  re- 
gard it  as  wicked  to  diverge  from  the  line  of  the 
perpendicular  as  from  religious  rectitude.  Prim- 
ness of  manners  is  by  no  means  graceful,  and  we 
would  remind  our  young  folks  that  their  bodies 
are  so  constructed  anatomically  as  to  be  capable 
of  bending  without  breaking.  In  bowing  or 
courtesying  they  will  find  it  by  no  means  fatal  to 
their  own  gravitation  and  resistance  to  yield  to 
the  natural  elasticity  of  their  frames,  though,  if 
they  refuse  to  do  so,  it  may  be  trying  to  other 
people’s  gravity  and  self-command. 

Many  dames,  by  not  bending  the  knees,  render 
their  walk  very  ungraceful.  The  posture,  more- 
over, if  too  rigid,  particularly  in  sitting,  has  an 
exceedingly  ugly  look.  Some  folks  are  unable 
to  sit  on  a chair,  though  they  have  so  many  op* 


HOW  TO  SIT  IN  A CHAIR. 


103 


portunities  of  learning  how  to  do  it.  While 
some  never  fairly  get  on  a seat  but  to  their 
own  manifest  discomfort  and  that  of  all  who 
look  upon  their  misery  poise  and  balance  them- 
selves on  the  sharp  edge,  there  are  others  who 
roll  their  bodies  up  into  heaps,  as  it  were,  and 
throw  them  with  an  audible  bounce  deep  into 
the  receptacle,  whatever  it  may  be.  Every  one 
seating  himself  should  take  his  place  deliberate- 
ly, and  so  completely  that  he  may  feel  the  full 
^repose  of  the  chair,  which  it  is  designed  to  give. 
The  limbs,  once  at  rest,  should  be  moved,  if 
moved  at  all,  as  noiselessly  as  possible ; and  all 
extraordinary  actions,  such  as  lifting,  for  exam- 
ple, one  leg  high  upon  the  other,  and  holding  it 
there  manacled  by  a grasp  of  the  hand,  should 
be  avoided.  A person  striding  a chair,  and  grind- 
ing his  teeth,  and  thrumming  his  hands  on  the 
back,  has  by  no  means  an  elegant  look  to  the  ob- 
server before  or  behind.  This  practice,  w^hich  is 
never  becoming  in  any  company,  is  simply  inde* 
cent  in  that  of  women. 


104 


CONTROL  OF  EXPRESSION. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

The  Expression. — How  far  Involuntary. — Laughter. — Its 
Propriety.  — Its  Advantages.  — Blushing.  — Shamefaced- 
ness.— Hawthorne  in  Company. — Great  Men,  Men  of  So 
ciety. — The  Disguises  of  Age. — Too  much  Hair.  — Hair- 
dressing.— Misuse  of  the  Nose. — Artificial  Odors. 

The  face  may  manifest,  more  or  less  independ- 
ently of  the  will,  the  character  of  the  person,  yet 
it  can  be  made,  by  set  purpose,  to  assume  an  ex- 
pression by  no  means  indicative  of  the  predomi- 
nating moral  or  intellectual  quality.  Thus  there 
are  some  countenances,  as  those  of  the  hypocrit- 
ical, which,  by  studied  care  and  long  practice, 
are  made  to  give  signs  directly  the  reverse  of  the 
true  character.  There  are  others,  again,  in  Avhich 
the  expression  is  so  designedly  obscured  that  it 
may  be  totally  unreadable.  These  are  the  in- 
scrutable faces  which  are  not  seldom  found  among 
consummate  thieves  and  their  skillful  catchers 
and  detectives. 

The  expression  is  undoubtedly  greatly  under 
the  control  which  every  polite  person  is  con- 
stantly exercising.  It  often  occurs  that  we  are 
provoked  to  a manifestation  of  emotion  the  re- 
verse of  vrhat  is  proper  to  the  occasion.  The 


COMPOSUKE  OF  FACE. 


105 


provocative  is  of  course  resisted,  and  generally 
with  success,  by  the  decorous.  No  decent  pei> 
son  laughs  at  a funeral  or  weeps  at  a wedding, 
although  the  disposition  is  not  seldom  strongly 
felt  to  reverse  the  conventional  order  of  the  tear 
and  the  smile. 

It  would  seem  that  polite  persons  are  expect- 
ed to  cultivate  a uniform  composure  of  face. 
Lord  Chesterfield  says,  “ I am  sure  that,  since  I 
have  had  the  full  use  of  my  reason,  nobody  has 
ever  heard  me  laugh,”  and  denounces  ‘‘  frequent 
and  loud  laughter  as  the  characteristic  of  folly 
and  of  ill  manners.”  So  far  his  lordship  may  be 
right,  and  we  agree  with  him  when  he  adds  that 
people  of  sense  and  breeding  should  be  above 
laughing  at  bufibonery  or  silly  accidents;  but 
we  protest  against  his  broad  assertion  that 
“there  is  nothing  so  illiberal  and  so  ill  bred  as 
audible  laughter,”  and  that  “ true  wit  or  sense 
never  yet  made  any  body  laugh  ; they  are  above 
it ; they  please  the  mind,  and  give  a cheerfulness 
to  the  countenance.” 

Laughing  inappropriately  and  on  all  occasions 
is  certainly  an  offensive  habit.  This  is  partly 
attributed  by  Chesterfield  to  awkwardness  and 
mauvaise  honte^  and  he  gives  as  an  example  the 
case  of  a famous  poet.  “ I know  a man,”  says 
he,  “of  very  good  parts,  Mr. Waller,  Avho  can 


106 


ADVANTAGE  OF  LAUGHTEIt. 


not  say  the  commonest  thing  without  laughing 
which  makes  those  who  do  not  know  him  take 
him  at  first  sight  for  a natural  fool.” 

Much  can  be  said  in  favor  of  laughter.  So- 
cially it  has  the  insifiriting  influence  of  Cham- 
pagne, promoting  general  gayety.  Of  course,  op- 
portunity and  a decorous  moderation  should  reg- 
ulate the  indulgence  in  this,  as  in  all  other  pleas- 
ures; but  we  protest  against  the  total  banish- 
ment of  hearty  laughter  from  polite  society. 
Its  good  effects  upon  the  individual,  as  well  as 
upon  mankind  in  the  aggregate,  can  not  be 
spared.  Without  it,  the  national  character 
would  wither  to  a dryness  in  which  tlierc  Avould 
be  no  succulence  of  humor,  physical  or  moral, 
left. 

Laughter,  which  is  the  ordinary  physical  man- 
ifestation of  the  sentiment  of  mirth,  is  peculiarly 
favorable  to  health.  Its  action,  starting  with 
the  lungs,  diaphragm,  and  contiguous  muscles, 
is  conveyed  to  the  whole  body,  “ shaking  the 
sides,”  and  producing  that  general  jelly-like  vi- 
bration of  which  we  are  so  agreeably  conscious 
when  under  its  influence.  This  wholesome  ex- 
ercise is,  moreover,  preceded  and  accompanied 
by  a gently  exciting  emotion  of  the  mind,  than 
which  nothing  can  be  more  favorable  to  the 
health.  The  human  being  thus  receives,  mentah 


BENEFITS  OF  CHEERFULNESS. 


107 


ly  and  bodily,  an  impulse  which  gives  renewed 
force  to  every  vital  organ.  The  heart  beats 
more  briskly,  and  sends  its  life-giving  fluid  to 
the  smallest  and  most  distant  vessel.  The  face 
glows  with  warmth  and  color,  the  eye  brightens, 
and  the  whole  temperature  of  the  body  is  height 
ened.  When  laughter  and  the  emotions  which 
provoke  it  become  habitual,  the  effect  is  to  in- 
crease the  insensible  perspiration  of  the  skin,  to 
quicken  breathing,  and  expand  the  lungs  and 
chest,  to  strengthen  the  power  of  digestion,  and 
favor  nutrition.  The  proverb  “ Laugh  and  grow 
fat”  states  a scientific  truth.  Shakspeare  recog- 
nizes the  influence  of  mirth  upon  the  human 
body  in  his  description  of  the  “ spare  Cassius 
“Seldom  he  smiles.” 

It  is  a well-known  fact  that  joy  and  its  mani- 
festations are  the  best  sharpeners  of  the  appe- 
tite. Dyspepsia  has  been  truly  said  to  com- 
mence oftener  in  the  brain  than  in  the  stomach, 
being  so  generally  produced  by  anxiety  of  mind 
and  want  of  cheerfulness.  A social  feast,  Avith 
its  accompaniments  of  jollity  and  good-fellow- 
ship, is  less  apt  to  disorder  a delicate  digestion 
than  the  solitary  anchorite’s  crust  and  cress. 

The  agreeable  emotions  are  the  most  effective 
preventives  of  disease.  During  the  j)revalence 
of  epidemics  the  courageous  and  cheerful  are 


108 


A MERRY  HEART. 


seldom  attacked.  The  plague,  it  has  been  said, 
is  a magnanimous  enemy,  and  spares  the  brave. 
Those  who  give  way  to  the  depressing  emotions, 
such  as  fear  and  anxiety,  are,  on  the  contrary, 
the  first  victims.  There  is  an  Eastern  apologue 
which  describes  a strano:er  on  the  road  meeting 
the  Plague  coming  out  of  Bagdad.  “ You  have 
been  committing  great  havoc  there,”  said  the 
traveler,  pointing  to  the  city.  “ Not  so  great !” 
replied  the  Plague.  “ I only  killed  one  third  of 
those  who  died  ; the  other  two  thirds  killed 
themselves  with  fright.”  The  doctors  tell  us 
that  a mian  may  be  daily  exposed  for  w^eeks  or 
months,  perhaps  for  years,  to  marsh  miasms  or 
malaria,  to  the  contagion  of  the  most  malignant 
diseases — typhus  fever,  scarlatina,  or  cholera — 
with  impunity,  provided  he  keeps  up  a merry 
heart.  The  Walcheren  pestilence,  which  proved 
finally  so  destructive  to  the  British  troops,  nev- 
er tainted  a soldier  with  its  fatal  touch  until  the 
expedition  became  manifestly  a failure.  While 
cheered  by  the  hope  of  victory,  each  bid  defiance 
to  disease;  when  depressed  with  certainty  of 
defeat,  every  one  became  a ready  victim. 

Cheerfulness  is  not  only  an  effective  prevent- 
ive of  disease,  but  an  excellent  remedy.  Noth- 
ing is  observed  to  be  so  unfavorable  to  the  re- 
turn to  health  of  a sick  man  as  despair  of  him- 


BLUSHING. 


iro 

self,  while  hopefulness  of  his  own  case  acts  as 
the  most  potent  restorative. 

Lord  Bacon  says : “To  be  free-minded  and 
cheerfully-disposed  at  hours  of  meat,  and  sleep, 
and  of  exercise,  is  one  of  the  best  precepts  of 
long  lasting.”  It  may  be  doubted  whether  a 
lugubrious  man  ever  fulfilled  the  allotted  period 
of  threescore  years  and  ten,  while  it  is  notorious 
that  all  those  who  have  greatly  surpassed  it  have 
been  mirthful  persons. 

The  celebrated  Sydenham  was  so  persuaded 
of  the  efficacy  of  cheerful  emotions  in  the  treat- 
ment of  disease,  that  he  ’was  accustomed  to  rec- 
ommend to  his  patients  the  perusal  of  “ Don 
Quixote,”  saying,  “ If  you  want  to  get  well,  read 
that  and  laugh.” 

Blushing,  which,  as  a sign  of  modesty,  may  be 
commendable  in  the  young,  especially  of  the  fe- 
male sex,  is  by  no  means  always  pleasing  and 
worthy  of  encouragement.  When  immoderate 
and  inopportune,  it  becomes  a social  nuisance. 
There  is  a false  shame,  or  mauvaise  honte,  as  the 
French  call  it,  Avhich  is  the  very  reverse  of  true 
modesty.  The  usual  signs  of  the  fictitious  qual- 
ity are  shyness,  wdth  the  common  accompani- 
ments of  frequent  and  ill-timed  blushing,  hesi- 
tancy of  speech,  hanging  of  the  head,  downcast 
eyes,  sidelong  glances,  shambling  and  stumbling 


110 


FALSE  MODESTY. 


gait,  restlessness  of  posture,  and  a general  air  of 
voluntary  shrinkage,  if  we  may  be  allowed  the 
term.  This  false  modesty  is  the  result  of  a 
genuine  vanity,  which,  overestimating  self,  fan- 
cies it  the  object  of  universal  attention.  This 
naturally  begets  a sensitiveness  and  an  anxiety 
about  personal  appearance  so  great  that  they 
embarrass  the  whole  behavior ; for  these  excess- 
ively vain  persons,  fancying  all  eyes  constantly 
upon  them,  would  desire  to  make  a figure  in  so- 
ciety of  which  they  are  manifestly  incapable. 
Of  this  they  are  the  first  to  become  conscious, 
and  their  hopelessness  of  success  is  painted  in 
strong  colors  upon  the  face,  and  visibly  impress- 
ed upon  every  limb  and  feature.  There  are  per- 
sons who  live  to  an  advanced  life,  and  yet  retain 
this  mauvaise  honte.  It  has  often  proved  fatal 
to  the  social  qualities  of  some  who  have  been 
otherwise  singularly  well  adapted  not  only  to 
receive  from  society,  but  to  bestow  upon  it, 
both  distinction  and  happiness.  Hawthorne,  our 
American  genius,  of  w^hom  we  are  justly  proud, 
was  so  afflicted  with  this  mauvaise  honte  that, 
with  a head  like  that  of  Jove,  and  a natural  maj- 
esty that  might  have  become  the  throne  of 
Olympus,  would  shrink,  blush,  hang  his  head,  and 
hesitate  in  speech  before  a stranger,  like  an  awk- 
ward school-boy.  In  his  case,  it  is  true,  if  there 


GROWING  OLD  GRACEFULLY. 


Ill 


was  self-consciousness  of  importance,  it  was  great- 
ly justified,  but  it  is  no  less  true  that  its  excessive 
manifestation  made  him  entirely  impracticable  as 
a member  of  general  society,  which  was  undoubt- 
edly the  chief  loser  in  this  instance,  though  ordf 
narily  it  is  not.  If  men  of  genius,  like  Lafon* 
taine,  Cowper,  and  Hawthorne,  may  be  allowed  to 
turn  their  heads  and  fly  from  the  ordinary  world, 
it  is  not  permissible  for  the  every-day  people  of 
whom  society  is  generally  composed  to  shirk 
the  duties  such  a brotherhood,  imposes.  All 
young  men  and  women  should  be  held  amenable 
to  the  obligations  of  social  decorum ; and,  in 
case  of  neglect  or  disobedience,  nothing  less  than 
genius,  and  that  not  without  a thorough  sifting 
of  the  claim,  should  be  received  in  extenuation. 
It  is  not  to  be  inferred  that  great  endowments 
of  intellect  are  necessarily  or  even  commonly 
associated  with  a deficiency  of  social  qualities. 
Shakspeare,  Bacon,  Newton,  Franklin,  and  Scott 
were  men  of  society.  All,  indeed,  were  public 
personages,  and  called  upon  to  fulfill  duties  which 
any  false  modesty  would  have  rendered  imj^rac- 
ticable. 

The  art  of  growing  old  gi'acefully”  is  shown 
in  no  respect  more  evidently  than  by  the  dis< 
cretion  with  wdiich  the  marks  of  age  are  treated. 
No  devices  to  give  a deceitful  appearance  of 


112 


TOO  MUCH  OF  THE  BAKBEB. 


youth  can  be  justified  by  the  sense  of  fitness  and 
good  taste.  False  hair,  more  particularly,  is 
among  the  ugliest  of  shams,  and,  though  made 
temporarily  current  by  the  sanction  of  fashion, 
can  not  withstand  the  test  of  a severe  decorum. 
Old  people  of  the  best  breeding  now  seldom  re* 
sort  to  the  hair-dresser  to  refurbish  their  sbat° 
tered  and  decaying  frames.  The  wig  and  dye- 
pot  are,  we  are  pleased  to  announce,  going  out 
of  fashion. 

The  hair  of  the  young,  according  to  our  taste, 
should  indicate  as  little  as  possible  the  artifi- 
cial touch  of  the  coiffeur.  At  any  rate,  any 
marked  evidence  of  his  fanciful,  oily,  and  odor- 
ous fingers  is  always  disgusting.  When  once 
the  head  has  been  properly  arranged,  it  is  well 
to  avoid  all  farther  interference  with  it.  The 
practice,  so  common  with  men,  of  passing  the 
hands  through  the  locks,  and  of  women  of  titi- 
vating them  with  their  gentle  touches,  is  filthy, 
and  not  becoming  before  company.  The  use  of 
a comb,  or  even  its  habitual  carriage  in  the  pock- 
et, is  irreconcilable  with  all  nicety  of  manners. 
Some  otherwise  very  decetit  people,  however, 
have  this  vile  practice,  and  it  is  not  uncommon 
to  find  them  deliberately  combing  themselves  at 
the  table  common  to  many  guests. 

Tlie  nose  is  the  most  prominent  and  noticeable 


EFFECT  OF  TAKING  SNUFF. 


113 


feature  of  the  face,  and,  as  its  functions  are  not 
till  of  the  noblest  kind,  it  especially  behooves 
people  who  desire  to  be  nice  to  avoid  drawing 
attention  to  them.  Consequently,  all  its  require- 
ments should  be  attended  to  in  the  quietest  and 
most  private  manner  possible.  It  should  never 
be  fondled  before  company,  or,  in  fact,  touched 
at  any  time,  unless  absolutely  necessary.  The 
nose,  like  all  other  organs,  augments  in  size  by 
frequent  handling,  so  we  recommend  every  per- 
son to  keep  his  own  fingers,  as  well  as  those  of 
his  friends  or  enemies,  away  from  it. 

We  need  hardly  protest  against  the  misuse  of 
the  nose  in  turning  it  into  a dust-hole  or  a soot- 
bag,  for  the  habit  of  snulF-taking  has  gone  so  out 
of  fiishion  that  we  can  hardly  find  now  even  a 
grandmother  to  venture  upon  a pinch.  This  hab- 
it, apart  from  its  filthiness,  weakens  the  senses  of 
smell  and  hearing,  and  perverts  the  human  voice 
to  a grunt  by  thickening  the  soft  and  sensi- 
tive membrane  which  extends  without  a break 
through  the  nose,  ear,  and  throat,  every  part  of 
which  is  reached  by  the  irritating  particles  of 
the  tobacco  inhaled. 

Most  nations,  not  content  with  the  sweet 
odors*  that  Nature  so  bountifully  supplies,  re- 

* The  labor  and  cost  which  man  will  endure  for  the  small 
luxiiiw  of  a smell  are  exemplified  by  the  difficulty'  and  ex- 

H 


114 


ODORS. 


sort  to  artificial  sources.  The  most  refined  peo< 
pie,  however,  avoid  as  much  as  possible  personal 
perfumes,  and  hold  that  the  absence  of  all  odor 
is  the  best  savor  of  human  communion.  They 
agree  with  Lord  Bacon  that  the  ‘‘  breath  of  flow- 
ers is  far  sweeter  in  the  aii',  where  it  comes  and 
goes,  like  the  warbling  of  music,  than  in  the 
hand.”  Those  of  nice  taste  eschew  all  j)erfumes 
but  those  which  are  evanescent,  such  as  Cologne 
and  the  like.  It  is  a curious  fact  that  the  eau 
de  Cologne  is  a native  of  that  Avorst  smelling 
of  cities  Avhere  Coleridge  smelt  Ave  forget  hoAV 
many  stenches.  This  seems  to  confirm  the  sus- 
picion that  a perfume  is  but  a mask  for  an  ill 
odor.  The  Cologne  owes  its  Avell-deserA^ed  repu- 
tation to  the  harmonious  mixture  of  a A^ariety 
of  essences,  chiefly  those  of  lemon,  juniper,  and 
rosemary,  so  Avell  combined  that  there  is  no  pre- 
dominating smell.  It  is,  moreover,  very  CA^anes- 
cent,  and  has  a spirituous  and  enlivening  scent, 
Avhich  causes  it  to  be  used  rather  for  one’s  OAvn 
refreshment  than  for  the  delectation  of  others. 
This  should  be  the  rule  in  regard  to  all  perfumes. 

pense  of  manufacturing  the  attar  or  otto  of  roses.  Two  grains 
only,  it  is  said,  of  oil  can  be  squeezed  with  the  utmost  care 
from  a thousand  roses,  and  this  is  sold  in  India,  on  the  spot 
where  it  is  made,  for  fifty  dollars  in  gold  a rupee  in  weight, 
which  is  about  176  grains.  At  two  grains  a thousand,  a ru- 
pee of  oil  would  require  nearly  ninety  thousand  roses ! 


ADHERENT  SMELLS. 


115 


They  should  he  kept  as  far  as  possible  for  the 
individual,  and  never  employed  so  strong  as  to 
penetrate  the  surrounding  atmosphere.  All  in- 
tensely adherent  smells,  such  as  musk,  should  be 
carefully  eschewed. 


X16 


PEOPEE  USE  OF  THE  EYE, 


CHAPTER  IX. 

Discreet  Use  of  the  Eye. — Eamiliar  Glances. — The  Fashion 
of  Eye-glasses. — East  Girls. — Winking. — Sleeping  in 
Company. — The  Somnolence  of  Washington  Irving. — 
Ear-boring. — Its  Cruelty  and  Barbarism. 

As  the  eye  is  the  most  expressive  feature  of 
the  face,  so  is  it  the  one  above  all  which  should 
be  used  with  particular  discretion.  The  two  ex- 
tremes of  shyness  and  boldness,  as  indicated  by 
the  downcast  look  and  the  staring,  are  equally 
unbecoming.  During  ordinary  social  intercourse 
with  an  equal,  the  eyes  should  be  raised  to  his 
or  hers  with  a regard  neither  very  unsteady  nor 
fixed.  The  look  must  not  be  staring  or  scrutin- 
izing, but  mildly  inquiring  and  sympathetic. 

We  doubt  whether  the  free  interchange  of 
glance  between  those  of  opposite  sex,  so  com- 
mon even  among  the  pretenders  to  good  breed- 
ing, can  be  justified  by  the  principles  of  true  de- 
corum. There  is  to  be  noticed  in  the  public 
promenades,  the  ballrooms,  the  operas,  the  thea- 
tres, and  even  in  the  churches,  a wondrous  famil- 
iarity of  look  between  our  beaux  and  belles,  who, 
though  strangers  to  each  other,  thus  seem  to  have 


THE  FKEE  EYE. 


117 


established,  in  the  twinkle  of  an  eye,  an  intimacy 
of  intercourse  they  would  never  acknowledge. 

The  free  eye  is  a marked  characteristic  of  the 
libertine,  and  all  modest  women  should  turn  per- 
sistently from  its  roving  and  unlicensed  glances. 
Some  young  girls  of  the  fast  kind,  with  an  auda- 
cious defiance  of  conventional  propriety,  and  yet 
often  with  no  thought  of  offense  against  real  mod- 
esty, will  not  only  recklessly  dally  with  these  in- 
trusive looks,  but  not  seldom  venture  a cast  of 
them  on  their  own  account. 

There  are  fast  women  every  Avhere,  but  the 
fast  girl  seems  to  be  more  particularly  an  Amer- 
ican product.  A tendency  on  the  part  of  the 
young,  unmarried  female  to  eccentric  flights  of 
any  kind  is  effectually  checked  in  most  countries 
by  parental  control.  This  continues  to  assert  it- 
self vigorously  until  marriage.  A young  girl  in 
Europe,  except  in  England,  where  the  social  cus- 
toms are  more  like  our  own,  has  thus  little  op- 
portunity of  indulging  in  fastness  or  any  other 
maiden  vagary. 

The  unmarried  American  woman  is  discerned 
at  once  by  the  freedom  of  her  manners.  Her 
bearing,  of  course,  is  modified  more  or  less  by 
the  natural  disposition,  education,  and  surround- 
ing influences;  but  there  is  always  apparent, 
even  in  the  most  reserved,  that  sense  of  inde- 


118 


FAST  AMERICAN  GIRL. 


pendence  characteristic  of  the  republican  maid. 
You  see  at  once,  in  the  face  of  the  most  modest, 
the  well-assured  look  of  the  conscious  will. 

Without  the  least  disposition  to  fasten  Euro- 
pean social  fetters  upon  our  daughters  of  Free- 
dom, we  would  remind  them  that  there  are  cer- 
tain laws  of  taste  and  propriety  as  obligatory  on 
their  obedience  as  upon  that  of  their  sisters  of 
monarchical  England  or  imperial  France.  Lib- 
erty is  not  necessarily  license,  and  the  claim  to 
the  one  is  not  to  be  vindicated  by  the  lawless- 
ness of  the  other.  The  American  girl  is  no  more 
free  by  right  than  any  other  to  indulge  in  those 
bold  coquetries  with  indecorum,  whether  of 
dress,  conversation,  or  manners,  comprehended 
within  the  slang  term  of  fastness.  It  is,  more- 
over, a paltry  ambition,  and  not  without  risk  to 
virtue,  to  aspire  to  the  distinction  of  being  jioint- 
ed  out  as  “ the  low-necked”  Bel  Smith,  or  the 
“high-stepping”  Fanny  Jones,  or  the  girl  who 
drank  a whole  bottle  of  Champagne,  or  she  who 
smoked  one  of  Frank  Tripup’s  fifty-cent  regalias. 
These,  or  the  improprieties  they  may  symbolize, 
are  too  common  to  be  considered  any  longer  ec- 
centricities. They  are  indeed  fast  becoming  such 
prevalent  characteristics  as  to  mark  the  type  of 
the  young  girl  of  fashion.  Her  essential  defect 
is  a vulgar  ambition  for  notoriety.  She  will  em 


FASTNESS  ON  CIIAKACTER. 


119 


dure  any  thing  but  obscurity,  and  therefore  takes 
care  that  she  is  seen,  heard,  and  talked  of  by  all 
the  world.  Her  dress  is  accordingly  flaunting, 
her  voice  loud,  her  words  slangy,  her  eye  staring, 
her  manners  obtrusive,  and  conduct  audaciously 
irregular.  All  this  may  be,  and  is,  doubtless, 
done  without  any  overt  act  of  vice,  but  it  looks 
so  much  like  it  that  the  difference  is  hardly  per- 
ceptible to  the  external  observer.  In  fact,  it 
seems  to  be  the  purpose  of  the  fast  damsel  to  as- 
sume the  semblance  of  wickedness,  for  in  this  ex- 
hausted age  tlie  piquancy  of  sin  is  essential  to 
awaken  admiration;  and  hypocrisy,  ceasing  to 
pay  its  tribute  to  virtue,  pays  it  to  vice.  The 
danger  of  this  is  obvious,  for  familiarity  with  the 
forms  is  apt  to  endanger  indifference  to  the  sub- 
stance. The  effect  ujDon  manners  and  character, 
even  when  the  last  and  fatal  step  is  not  taken, 
is  exceedingly  hurtful.  The  young  maid,  in  drop- 
ing  her  reserve,  loses  her  distinctive  charm,  and 
the  steady  eye  and  defiant  forehead  alarm  those 
to  whom  the  look  of  modesty  is  so  alluring.  The 
bold  and  flaunting  girl  can  never  become  the  or- 
derly housewife  and  patient  mother,  for  will  she 
be  contented  to  perform  the  quiet  duties  of  home, 
^nd  accept  the  secret  approval  of  her  own  con- 
science, after  having  been  accustomed  to  public 
display  and  notoriety? 


120 


EYE-GLASSES. 


Ifc  would  seem  that  American  parents  might 
curtail  somewhat  the  liberty  of  their  children, 
without  interfering  too  much  with  that  inde* 
pendence  of  action  so  essential  to  the  strength 
of  character.  Girls  are  allowed  to  consider  them- 
selves women  too  soon,  and  are  thus  premature 
ly  emancipated  from  parental  control.  They  are, 
moreover,  after  leaving  school,  permitted  to  re- 
main mistresses  of  their  own  time,  when  they 
should  be  held  in  subjection  to  a systematic  dis- 
cipline of  study  and  conduct.  With  less  idle 
time  and  a more  watchful  parental  care,  there 
would  be  fewer  of  those  fast  girls,  whose  eccen- 
tricities are  becoming  daily  more  remarkable  and 
alarming,  and  who  are  destined,  if  not  checked 
in  their  growth,  to  have  a disastrous  effect  upon 
social  manners  and  morals. 

After  this  long  digression,  into  which  we  have 
been  led  by  the  convenience  of  the  occasion  and 
the  importance  of  what  we  had  to  say,  we  return 
to  our  subject.  The  functions  of  the  natural  eye 
and  eye-glasses  are  much  abused.  It  is  quite  clear 
that  the  whole  world  of  feshion  has  not  all  of  a 
sudden  become  so  afflicted  with  shortsighted- 
ness as  to  render  the  use  of  artificial  means  for 
its  relief  universally  necessary.  Nine  tenths  of 
the  people,  male  and  female,  who  are  constantly 
eying  the  universe  and  each  other  through  glass, 


WINKING  AND  OGLING. 


121 


require  no  other  medium  than  the  one  provided 
by  Nature.  Nothing  can  be  more  ill  bred,  and 
we  assert  it  in  the  face  of  assenting  Fashion,  than 
ogling  a stranger  in  the  streets  through  an  eye- 
glass— 

“With  a stony  British  stare,” 

or  surveying  an  opposite  neighbor  at  the  theatre 
with  a lorgnette. 

We  were  witnesses  of  a deserved  rebuke  gen- 
tly given  by  a priest  at  Notre  Dame^  in  Paris, 
to  a young  American  girl  who,  during  matins, 
was  freely  using  her  eye-glass.  He  touched  her 
arm,  and  indicated  her  wrong-doing  with  a 
frown  so  polite  that  it  might  almost  be  taken 
for  a smile.  She  received  the  chiding  with  a 
graciousness  which  nearly  atoned  for  her  sacri- 
legious offense,  and  the  fair  penitent  will,  we  are 
sure,  sin  no  more  in  this  respect,  wherever  she 
may  go. 

Winking  and  all  knowing  glances  had  better 
be  left  to  the  horse-jockeys  and  the  frequenters 
of  the  bar-rooms,  billiard  saloon,  and  gambling- 
tables.  It  would  seem  hardly  necessary  to  re- 
mind any  one  of  the  indecorousness  of  sleeping 
in  company,  but  it  must  be  recollected  that  the 
obligation  is  equally  urgent  upon  all  not  to  put 
people  to  sleep.  It  is  the  duty  of  every  one  to 
be  wakeful ; it  is  equally  so  to  be  as  little  soni- 


122 


TOILETTE  OF  THE  EAR. 


niferous  in  matter  and  manner  as  possible*  An 
illustration  is  given  in  Vivian  Gray  of  thi  som- 
nolency of  Washington  Irving,  who,  according 
to  the  author,  D’Israeli,  was  taken  up  bodily  from 
a dinner-table  where  he  had  fallen  asleep,  and 
did  not  awake  until  set  down  in  the  midst  of 
an  evening  party.  This,  if  true,  should  be  put 
down  rather  to  the  account  of  the  stupidity  of 
London  dinners  than  the  impoliteness  of  Irving, 
who,  of  all  men,  was  the  most  courteous. 

The  ear  is  naturally  one  of  the  most  retiring 
features  of  the  face,  and  therefore  less  often  of- 
fends than  is  offended  against.  We  may  sug- 
gest, however,  the  propriety  of  restricting  to 
the  private  dressing-room  all  that  is  necessary 
for  its  toilette,  as  well  as  that  of  the  rest  of  the 
person.  The  insertion  of  the  finger  or  any  in- 
strument into  the  passages  of  the  ear,  however 
necessary  for  keeping  that  important  organ  in 
proper  order,  is  entirely  an  operation  of  private, 
and  not  public  interest. 

We  must  here,  even  at  the  risk  of  a universal 
oh ! from  all  womankind,  ]3rotest  against  the 
barbaric  practice  of  ear-boring,  to  which  they 
cling  with  a singular  persistence.  It  would  be 
as  difficult,  probably,  to  dissuade  our  dames 
from  making  holes  in  their  ears  and  hanging 
trinkets  to  them  as  it  would  be  to  induce  a fe- 


BAEBAEITY  OF  EAR-BOEING. 


123 


male  Hottentot  to  forego  the  national  fashion 
of  piercing  the  cartilage  of  her  flattened  nose 
and  suspending  from  it  a ring,  large  and  heavy 
as  an  iron  cable-link,  or  prevent  a Feejee  Island- 
er from  tearing  with  a jagged  fish-bone  a rent 
in  the  nether  lip  big  and  ugly  as  her  voracious 
mouth.  The  practice,  however,  of  so-called  civ- 
ilized women  is  no  less  barbaric  than  that  of 
these  savage  females. 

The  woman  of  ancient  Greece,  true  to  the  in- 
stinctive sense  of  beauty  and  cultivated  grace 
of  her  race,  trusted  to  the  developments  of  her 
natural  charms  for  attractive  force,  and  scorned 
all  adornments  wdiich  were  not  inherent  in  her 
own  person.  Fancy  those  beautiful  ear-pulps 
of  the  Venus  of  Milo,  just  peeping  from  below 
her  wavy  garland  of  hair,  bored  through  and 
through,  and  dragged  out  from  their  cozy  shel- 
ter by  heavy  pendants  of  gold,  silver,  or  what 
not.  Who  would  not  be  struck  aghast  at  such 
a sacrilege  of  art  and  nature  ? 

More  modern  art  accepted  these  barbaric  bau- 
bles. Titian,  for  example,  puts  them  in  the  ears 
of  his  Venus,  but  in  the  voluptuousness  of  that 
conception  how  great  is  the  change,  w^e  might 
say  degradation,  from  the  God-like  chasteness 
of  the  Greek  ideals  of  beauty  ! 

So  fixed  is  the  attachment  of  modern  women 


124 


PEOCESS  OF  EAR-BOEING. 


to  this  Ugly  and  barbaric  practice,  that  they  not 
only  persist  themselves  in  wearing  ear-rings,  but 
enjoin  it  almost  as  a duty  upon  their  daughters 
to  do  likewise.  No  sooner  has  the  offspring  of 
fashion.  Miss  Arabella  Augusta,  or  plain  Maggie 
of  the  common  world — for  the  habit  is  universal 
• — completed  her  first  decade,  than  she  is  taken  to 
some  jeweler  or  surgeon  (for  there  are  even  sur- 
geons found  thus  to  degrade  their  noble  art)  to 
have  her  ears  borecL  The  little  ones  seldom  go 
unwillingly,  so  early  are  they  disposed  to  offer 
themselves  as  sacrifices  to  that  exacting  deity. 
Fashion.  In  fact,  we  know  of  one  impatient  lit- 
tle hussy  who,  unwilling  to  bide  her  mother’s 
time,  actually  dropped  the  stocking  she  was 
darning,  and  with  the  great  needle  deliberately 
pierced  holes  in  her  ears,  and  left  in  each  a 
string  of  yarn  to  fester  and  complete  the  muti- 
lation. 

The  ordinary  process  of  ear-boring  is  simple, 
and  seldom  either  very  painful  or  dangerous, 
although  there  are  cases  recorded  of  erysipelas 
and  death  having  followed.  The  operator,  be 
he  jeweler  or  surgeon,  holds  a cork  firmly  against 
one  side  of  the  lobe  of  the  ear,  while  from  the 
other  side  he  transfixes  it  Avith  a needle  or  an 
awl,  as  a saddler  punches  a hole  into  a leather 
strap.  Then  a thread  is  passed  through  and 


A CRUEL  OPERATION. 


125 


left  to  fester,  so  that  the  opening  once  made 
may  not  close  again.  Familiar  as  you  are  with 
the  process,  for  it  is  being  performed  in  each 
day’s  light  of  this  civilized  land,  gentle  and 
Christian  dames,  does  not  this  description  of  it, 
when  deliberately  read,  sound  like  that  of  the 
barbarous  practice  of  savages  in  some  far-off 
country  of  heathenism  ? 

By  hazard  we  once  saw  a young  girl  thus 
mutilated.  She  came  into  a jeweler’s  shop 
clinging  to  a great  blowzy  woman  bejeweled  all 
over  from  the  lobes  of  her  ears  to  the  tips  of  her 
fingers,  and  her  toes  too,  for  what  we  know. 
The  child  was  pale,  but  was  biting  her  lower  lip 
with  a spasmodic  fixedness  of  resolution.  The 
operator,  a great  whiskered  fellow,  after  fum- 
bling about  for  his  tools,  finally  brought  out  his 
awl  and  cork  and  began  the  operation.  With 
the  mere  touch  of  the  cutting  instrument  the 
poor  child  winced  for  the  first  time,  and  as  the 
man,  who  was  somewhat  of  a bungler,  forced  his 
way,  boring  through  the  tender  flesh,  a tear  was 
wrung  from  each  little  eye,  and  drop  after  drop 
of  blood  fell  and  splashed,  making  great  red 
stains  upon  her  linen  collar.  The  child  only  bit 
her  lip  more  firmly,  but  evidently  could  hardly 
restrain  herself,  and  would  have  cried  if  her  van- 
ity had  allowed.  The  operator  coolly  wiped  hia 


126 


EAE-TKINKETS. 


bloody  instrument,  and  the  mother  warmly 
scolded  the  child  for  letting  the  blood  drop 
upon  her  collar,  and,  paying  the  price  of  her 
child’s  mutilation,  walked  away,  still  grumbling 
at  the  stains. 

Mothers  will  sometimes,  when  pressed  hard 
to  answer  for  this  barbarity,  declare  that  boring 
the  ears  is  good  for  the  eyes.  This  is  a vulgar 
error,  and  only  worthy  of  a greasy  ship’s  cook 
or  ignorant  Maltese  sailor,  who  wears  ear-rings, 
as  he  says,  for  the  same  reason. 

Neither  is  there  beauty  or  fitness  in  the  prac- 
tice of  hanging  the  ears  with  trinkets.  The  ear 
was  intended  to  lie  half  concealed  by  the  hair, 
and  any  thing  attached  to  it  brings  it  into  un- 
due prominence.  The  ear-ring,  however  pre- 
cious and  pretty  in  itself,  does  not  add  beauty 
to  that  rarest  of  possessions,  a small  and  well- 
formed  ear,  while  it  draws  attention  to  a big 
oystei-like  one,  and  intensifies  its  uglinesj> 


PUKITY  OF  SPEECH. 


,127 


CHAPTER  X. 

Purity  of  Speech. — Effect  of  refined  Association. — Exagger^ 
ation  of  American  Talk. — Fashionable  Falsehood. — Plain 
Speaking. — Prudishness  of  Speech. 

Good  early  culture  and  habitual  association 
with  refined  persons  are  undoubtedly  essential 
to  give  purity  to  speech  and  the  highest  tone 
of  refinement  to  conversation.  There  are  many 
persons  who  have  diligently  perfected  themselves 
in  a knowledge  of  the  laws  of  grammar,  and  be- 
come familiar  with  the  style  of  the  chastest  writ- 
ers, and  yet  can  not  utter  a phrase  without  be- 
traying the  barbarism  of  a rude  origin.  It  is 
not  uncommon  to  find  people  learned  in  all  the 
rules  of  syntax,  and  capable  of  applying  them  to 
the  art  of  writing,  who  habitually  speak  incor- 
rectly. Those,  too,  who  are  precisians  in  speech 
are  often  ignorant  of,  and  unrestrained  by,  the 
laws  of  grammar  in  writing.  A correct  and  re- 
fined pronunciation,  especially,  is  only  to  be  ac- 
quired by  hearing  it  constantly,  and  from  the 
earliest  age,  from  the  lips  of  those  who  habitu- 
ally use  it.  It  is  said  that  Sir  Robert  Peel,  the 
great  English  statesman,  with  all  the  refinements 


128 


now  TO  SPEAK  PURELY^ 


of  his  school,  collegiate,  and  social  relations,  was 
never  thoroughly  able  to  overcome  the  early  in- 
fluence of  his  humble  Lancashire  origin,  and  that, 
during  all  his  life,  the  h was  to  him,  as  to  most 
of  his  countrymen,  a constant  stumbling-block. 

It  would  be  presumptuous  to  pretend  to  give 
precepts  for  the  acquisition  of  a refined  speech, 
which  is  only  to  be  obtained  by  personal  com- 
munion with  the  expert.  It  is  well,  however,  to 
suggest  the  importance  of  keeping  the  young,  as 
far  as  possible,  within  the  sound  of  pure  speak- 
ing, and  not  trust  to  the  schoolmaster  and  the 
rules  of  grammar  for  perfecting  them  in  the  re- 
finements of  speech.  The  choice  of  servants  be- 
comes important  in  this  regard,  and  we  doubt 
whether  the  rude  peasants  of  the  Black  Forest 
and  bogs  of  Connemara,  to  whom  we  commonly 
intrust  our  little  ones,  are  better  suited  to  give 
sweetness  of  voice,  justness  of  emphasis,  and  cor- 
rectness of  expression  than  refinement  of  man- 
ners to  the  future  cavaliers  and  dames  of  Amer- 
ica. 

Although  we  can  not  pretend  to  give  perfec- 
tion to  the  use  of  mouth  and  tongue  by  any  thing 
we  may  say,  we  shall  venture  to  utter  a few  warn- 
ings, with  the  hope  of  preventing  the  abuse  of 
those  flexible  and  easily  perverted  organs. 

Loudness,  or  what  the  French  call  the  eriard^ 


SLANG. 


129 


is  peculiarly  an  attribute  of  American  talk,  and 
is  not  favorable  to  purity  of  diction  or  clearness 
of  thought.  This  style  of  conversation  is  marked 
by  the  free  use  of  intense  and  high-sounding  ad' 
jectives,  generally  employed  in  their  superlative 
degrees.  These,  moreover,  are  often  most  ludi- 
crously misapplied.  For  example,  we  hear  the 
“splendidest”  weather,  the  “most  beautiful”  ice- 
cream, the  “sweetest”  clergyman,  the  “most  ele- 
gant” sermon,  the  “ awfulest”  fine  whiskers,  the 

“terrible  dress  that  horrid  Miss  A wore,” 

ilie  “ dreadfully  shocking”  hat  of  Miss  B , 

and  those  “ magnificent”  trowsers  of  Harry,  and 
“ delicious”  boots  of  Tom,  gushing  from  the  lips 
of  our  young  damsels  in  a torrent  of  such  con- 
fused speech  that  its  parts  are  hardly  distin- 
guishable from  each  other,  and  form  but  a tur- 
bid mixture  of  nonsense. 

Every  few  years  or  so  a slang  phrase  gets 
somehow  or  other  into  vogue.  That  this  should 
consist  merely  of  the  misuse  of  some  familiar 
term,  and  not  the  invention  of  a new  one,  like 
“quiz,”  for  example,  shows  the  comparative  pov- 
erty of  device  of  us  moderns.  “Awful”  is,  for 
the  moment,  the  abused  word,  and  it  is  bandied 
about  throughout  all  the  length  and  breadth  of 
the  English  language,  and  consequently  all  over 
the  globe.  For  no  reason  in  the  world,  it  has 
I 


130 


FASHIONABLE  FALSEHOOD. 


thrown  out  of  usage  an  appropriate  and  service- 
able adverb,  and  suddenly  taken  its  place,  for 
which,  being  an  adjective,  it  is  by  nature  unfit. 
Wherever  the  old  “ very”  once  becomingly  held 
its  own,  the  impudent  interloj)er  “awful”  has 
thrust  itself,  contrary  to  all  grammatical  deco- 
rum.  Slang  of  every  variety,  whether  consist- 
ing of  this  absurd  abuse  of  a word,  or  whatever 
else,  is  equally  opposed  to  correctness  of  speech 
and  propriety  of  manners. 

Profane  swearing,  or  its  relatives,  the  various 
emphatic  expletives,  are  now  never  heard  in  de- 
cent society,  and  peoj)le  of  good  breeding  are  not 
expected  to  give  pledges  of  “ word”  or  “ honor” 
as  guarantees  of  their  truth  and  honesty. 

There  is  a kind  of  deceit  which  fashion  seems 
to  sanction,  but  the  necessity  or  convenience  of 
which  may  not  be  so  great  as  is  supposed.  It  is 
astonishing  the  number  of  falsehoods  one  has 
to  utter  to  make  a respectable  figure  in  what  is 
technically  called  society.  A truthful  person, 
incapable  of  practicing  a deceit  or  asserting  a 
lie,  would  not  be  able  to  hold  up  her  head  for  a 
moment  in  what  the  fashionable  deem  good  com- 
pany. Fancy  a woman  with  a conscience  above 
deception  presenting  herself  in  all  her  natural- 
ness of  person  and  character!  Suppose  her, 
scorning  crinoline,  padding,  false  hair,  and  other  j 


EXCUSES  FOE  FALSEHOOD. 


131 


artifices  of  the  modern  dame’s  make-up^  and 
exhibiting^  herself  in  her  orig-inal  dimensions! 
Nothing  would  so  shock  the  sensibilities  of  the 
fashionable  world  at  least  as  such  an  honest  dis- 
closure of  the  truth — of  nature. 

The  proprieties  of  society  would  be  still  fur- 
ther startled  at  the  sound  of  the  spoken  truth. 
If  any  one  should  drop  the  lying  words  of  love, 
friendship,  esteem,  and  admiration,  and  use  only 
those  expressions  which  denote  the  actual  rela- 
tions of  ordinary  mortals,  he  or  she  w^ould  be 
speedily  thrust  out. 

We  are  told  that  these  expressions  of  endear- 
ment and  of  proffered  service  so  universal  are 
merely  conventional  expressions ; that,  for  ex- 
ample, when  we  say  or  write  to  persons  the  most 
indifferent  to  us,  as  we  all  do,  ‘‘  My  dear  Sir,”  or 
‘‘Dear  Madam,”  “Your  humble  servant,”  or 
“ Yours  faithfully,”  we  do  not  mean  what  is  said 
or  written.  We  are  quite  aware  of  it,  and  this 
only  confirms  our  statement  of  the  social  neces- 
sity of  the  lie  ; for  in  the  most  ordinary  relations 
of  life  we  are  compelled  to  make  use  of  it,  or  lose 
our  claim  to  a place  in  polite  society.  Some  in- 
genious moralists  have  found  excuses  for  the 
conventional  falsehood.  We  are  rejoiced  that 
they  have,  for  it  seems  impossible  to  avoid  tell- 
ing it ; and  many  a sore  conscience  wants  salv- 


132 


A FASHIONABLE  LIAR. 


ing.  Paley  justifies  a dame,  who  is  at  home, 
'saying  that  she  is  not^  by  the  gloss  that  she 
means  that  she  is  not  at  home  to  see  company.” 
This  is  no  justification  at  all ; for  if  she  does  not 
desire  to  deceive,  why  should  she  not  state  the 
plain  truth. 

While  allowing  largely  for  the  quantity  of 
falsehood  necessary  to  make  a respectable  ap- 
pearance in  society,  we  still  think  that  there  is 
an  exorbitant  use  of  that  tempting  but  fatal 
vice.  The  great  danger  of  conceding  the  least 
privilege  to  a lie  is  that  it  may  assert  its  right 
of  way  every  where ; and  it  is  a fact  that  where 
the  conventional  falsehood  is  most  in  vogue, 
there  genuine  truth  is  least  common.  It  is  as- 
tonishing with  what  eflfrontery  a fashionable 
woman  will  tell  a barefaced  lie  ! Mark  with 
what  rapidity  she  will  pass  from  a compliment 
to  abuse  of  the  same  person  ! She  is  “ charmed” 
and  “disgusted”  in  the  turn  of  a heel;  praises 
before  and  vituperates  behind  ; welcomes  loudly 
in  a voice  which  ends  in  a whisper  of  discontent ; 
and  one  half  of  her  time  is  spent  in  unsaying 
what  she  says  during  the  other.  A dame  of  “ the 
best  society”  urged,  in  our  hearing,  with  appa- 
rent candor  and  earnestness,  a gentle  guest  to 
favor  the  company  with  the  pleasure  of  hearing 
her  “ sweet  voice.”  The  young  girl  no  soone' 


TLAIN  SPEAK^A’G. 


133 


turned  with  a polite  compliance  to  the  piano 
than  our  hostess  whispered  to  another  guest  at 
her  side,  “Now  you’ll  hear  a screech.”  The 
compliment  and  denunciation  were  uttered  al- 
most in  the  same  breath,  and  without  a change 
in  the  uniform  ripple  of  her  face. 

How  many  urgent  solicitations  are  made  to 
which  the  “ favorable”  answer  desired  is  a nega- 
tive, though  the  contrary  is  pretended  with  so 
much  apparent  earnestness.  When  people  are 
asked  to  “ stay,”  to  “ call  again,”  to  “come  oft- 
en,” to  “ drop  in  to  dinner,”  “to  be  sure  to  be  in 
time  for  tea,”  it  is  seldom  wished  they  should  do 
either.  These  are  the  polite  lies  and  frauds  of 
society  which  can  not  be  justified  by  any  ab- 
stract principle  of  morals. 

There  is  a habit  the  directly  opposite  of  fash- 
ionable falsehood ; we  mean  plain  speaking,  of 
which  we  shall  find  no  traces  in  polite  society. 
This,  though  undoubtedly  a virtue,  may  be  car-  * 
ried  to  an  uncomfortable  and  inconvenient  ex- 
cess. 

There  are  certain  people  who  take  credit  to 
themselves  for  seeing  through  all  the  illusions 
of  life,  and  tearing  away  every  veil  of  gauze 
which  individual  fondness  or  social  propriety 
may  throw  over  the  ugly  and  painful.  These 
run  a muck  through  society,  attacking  all  its 


134 


IMPEKTINENT  EEALISTS. 


cherislied  deceits,  however  innocent  and  liarm 
less.  They  would  make  a clean  sweep  of  all  the 
phantasms  of  the  imagination,  put  to  flight  the 
airy  creations  of  the  fancy,  and  dispel  the  cloud- 
less visions  of  dreamland.  They  would  not  that 
man  should  ever  forget  his  primitive  constitu- 
tion of  dust  and  ashes.  With  the  least  tendency 
heavenward  before  his  time,  they  tug  him  to 
earth  at  once. 

These  impertinent  realists  are  the  great  de- 
stroyers of  human  happiness.  They  begin  ear- 
ly, continue  long,  and  never  cease  until  the  end 
of  life.  A mother’s  tenderness  even  can  not 
soften  their  hard-hearted  positivism.  They  will 
rudely  blur  the  maternal  vision  of  her  child’s 
beauty  with  the  unwelcome  assertion  that  it  is 
ugly.  “ All  babies  are  ugly,”  is  a favorite  prop- 
osition of  these  plain-spoken  people.  This  may 
be  a fact  in  natural  history,  but  it  is  something 
- that  was  never  dreamt  of  in  the  philosophy  of 
the  mother  to  whom  the  ugliest  child  is  most 
beautiful.  In  fact,  as  there  are  no  absolute  laws 
of  beauty,  there  is  no  reason  why  the  maternal 
fondness  should  not  be  accepted  as  the  test  in 
regard  to  the  looks  of  her  own  infant.  No  in- 
different  person  has  the  right  to  an  opinion  con- 
trary to  tliat  of  her  who  is  so  dee23ly  concerned. 
A polite  concurrence  is  the  duty  of  every  civil 


ATTACK  ON  YOUNG  IMAGINATION.  135 

ized  being.  Politeness,  however,  is  never  recog- 
nized as  an  obligation  by  the  plain-spoken  peo- 
ple, of  one  of  whom  we  recollect  an  incident 
strikingly  illustrative  of  this  statement.  A fond 
mother  was  displaying  her  first-born  to  a circle 
of  her  husband’s  friends.  Among  these  there 
chanced  to  be  a plain-spoken  person  of  the  plain- 
est kind.  Every  one  but  him  hastened  to  utter 
the  compliment  appropriate  to  the  occasion.  He 
kept  what  he  had  to  say  until  the  mother  had 
been  warmed  to  the  highest  jDoint  of  maternal 
vanity  by  the  intense  expressions  of  admiration 
of  all  but  him,  when  he  deliberately  dashed  upon 
her  this  bucketful  of  cold  water.  ‘‘Your  baby, 
madam,”  said  he,  “ reminds  me  of  a Flat-headed 
Indian.”  The  comparison,  it  is  true,  was  not  in 
appropriate.  As  for  the  suitableness  of  the  re- 
mark to  the  occasion,  we  leave  it  to  all  tender 
mothers  to  decide. 

These  plain-spoken  people  have  the  audacity 
to  declare  in  the  face  of  every  boy  that  there 
never  was  such  a person  as  Robinson  Crusoe  or 
his  man  Friday,  and  that  Jack  the  Giant-Killer 
is  a myth.  Boys  fortunately  have  a sturdy  faith, 
sustained  by  a young  and  vigorous  imagination, 
and  they  are  generally  proof  to  the  unwelcome 
and  improbable  verities  of  plain-spoken  people. 
It  is,  however,  none  the  less  cruel  to  torment 


136 


GOOD  SII  E OF  PLAIN  SPEAKING. 


the  youthful  credulity  with  the  uncertainties  of 
doubt. 

Never  invite  a plain-spoken  person  to  dinner, 
for  he  will  be  sure  to  detect  the  New^ark  cider 
in  your  Champagne  bottle,  and  announce  the 
fact  before  the  whole  company.  Don’t  trust  in 
his  presence  to  the  delusion  of  a wdg,  or  confide 
in  the  artifice  of  a hair-dye,  for  he  will  penetrate 
the  deceit,  and  expose  you  in  all  the  baldness 
and  grayness  of  age.  After  death,  let  not  your 
family  invite  him  to  your  funeral,  for  he  will  tell 
all  your  failings  to  his  companion  as  he  walks  to 
your  grave. 

Plain-spoken  people  perhaps  have  their  good 
side  also.  They  are  quick  to  detect  every  sham, 
and  may  serve  as  correctors  of  false  pretension. 
If  they  w^ould  confine  their  detective  propensi- 
ties and  their  public  denunciations  to  all  the 
false  shows  of  wealth,  gentility,  benevolence,  and 
religion,  w^e  might  wish  them  God-speed.  While, 
however,  they  continue  to  run  a muck  at  all  the 
innocent  illusions  of  the  imagination  and  the 
heart,  'sve  shall  keep  our  doors  closed,  and  our- 
selves, if  possible,  secure  from  the  shock  of  all 
plain-spoken  people. 

The  prudishness  which  avoids  calling  things 
by  their  real  names,  a spade  a spade^'"  etc.,  and 
resorts  to  all  sorts  of  verbal  device  to  escape 


PJJUDISIINESS  OF  SPEECH, 


137 


the  employment  of  some  peculiar  term  become 
inexplicably  offensive,  is  the  worst  form  of  im- 
modesty, for  it  gives  proof  of  impure  thought, 
while  it  hypocritically  strives  to  disguise  it.  We 
join  with  Sterne  in  his  warning  against  the  dan- 
gers of  “ accessory  ideas.”  There  are  certain 
words  peculiar  to  American  usage  which,  so  far 
from  being  recognized  by  the  English,  are  unin- 
telligible to  them.  There  is  not  one  man  or 
woman  in  ten  thousand  of  those  who  speak  our 
language,  except  ourselves,  who  would  under- 
stand what  we  mean  by  ‘^rooster.”  We  are 
gradually  getting  over,  in  this  country,  this  false 
modesty  of  speech,  and  it  is  now  perhaps  possi- 
ble to  discover  within  a hundred  miles  of  a me- 
tropolis an  occasional  pair  of  female  lips  capable 
of  pronouncing  “ leg,”  “shirt,”  “body,”  or  even 
“ trowsers,”  and  a face  that  will  not  redden  at 
the  remotest  allusion  to  a subject  more  or  less 
suggested  by  the  presence  of  every  reputable 
matron. 


138 


THE  AMEEICAN  VOICE. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

The  Defects  of  the  American  Voice. — Their  Cause. — Uglv 
Noises  with  the  Mouth. — Decency  of  Motion. — Attitudin- 
izing.— Affected  Women. — Ugly  Tricks. — Hand-shaking. 

■ — Democratic  Intrusiveness. — American  Publicity. — The 
Impertinence  of  British  Loyalty. — Salutations. — Care  of 
the  Hands  and  Nails. 

The  American  voice  is  generally  more  nasal 
and  high-pitched  than  the  English.  Our  women, 
particularly,  are  far  less  gentle  and  sweet-toned 
in  speech  than  their  British  cousins.  On  hear- 
ing some  of  our  damsels  speak,  we  are  forcibly 
reminded  of  the  beautiful  girl  in  the  fairy-tale 
Avho  could  never  open  her  mouth  without  letting 
out  toads,  vipers,  and  other  ugly  creatures.  The 
sharpness  of  the  American  voice  may  possibly 
be  somewhat  due  to  the  prevalent  condition  of 
the  atmosphere  in  this  country.  This  idea  seems 
to  be  confirmed  by  the  fact  of  a variation  in  tone 
according  to  the  degree  of  latitude,  and  longi- 
tude. The  Northern  and  Eastern  voices  are  cer- 
tainly less  soft  than  the  Southern.  Voice  essen- 
tially depends  upon  hearing,  and  the  sounds  ut- 
tered will  correspond  pretty  faithfully  with  the 


FKEEDOM  OF  YOUTHFUL  SPEECH.  139 

sounds  heard.  If  these,  in  consequence  of  a clear, 
dry  atmosphere,  strike  the  ear  shrilly,  the  vocal 
organs  will  naturally  echo  them  in  sharp,  quick 
tones.  Granting  that  the  peculiar  American  voice 
may  be  greatly  due  to  natural  causes,  we  yet  do 
not  doubt  that  much  can  be  done  by  care  to  qual- 
ify its  monotonous  harshness. 

Our  children,  in  accordance  with  their  general 
freedom  from  restraint,  are  allowed  to  exercise 
their  voices,  as  the  rest  of  their  franchises,  with- 
out check.  These  “ chartered  libertines”  accord- 
ingly use  their  tongues  and  lungs  as  those  are 
wont  who  can  do  as  they  will  with  their  own. 
Tliey  put  them  to  the  full  stretch  of  their  pow- 
ers, and  consequently  shout  when  they  should 
talk.  Thus  their  utterance  becomes  habitually 
loud  and  impetuous,  and  necessarily  shrill  and 
monotonous,  for  high  are  sharp,  and  hasty  are  un- 
modulated tones.  A little  more  rigidity  of  disci- 
pline in  childhood  would  do  much,  we  think,  to 
correct  not  only  the  vocal,  but  some  other  de- 
fects of  our  people  we  might  enumerate.  Let  our 
damsels  bear  always  in  mind  that  there  is  noth- 
ing so  charming  in  Avoman  as  a low,  sweet  voice, 
and  strive,  accordingly,  to  evoke  some  variety 
and  softness  of  tone  from  their  vocal  organs, 
which  are  not  necessarily  loud-sounding  instru- 
ments of  a single  note,  and  that  a sharp  nasal 


140 


DECOROUS  SWALLOWING. 


one.  The  practice  of  reading  aloud  is  a good 
means  of  learning  to  modulate  the  voice ; and,  in 
pronouncing  each  word,  the  mouth  should  be  fair- 
ly opened,  that  the  guttural  sound  may  be  heard, 
and  not  lost  in  a predominating  nasal  twang. 

The  mouth  may  offend  by  its  inarticulate  as 
well  as  articulate  utterances.  All  unnecessary 
noises  with  this  and  its  fellow-organ,  the  tongue, 
are  fatal  to  decorum  of  manners.  Humming, 
whistling,  spitting,  and  sucking  of  the 

teeth  are  so  disgusting  that  the  mere  mention 
of  them  seems  almost  an  offense.  Some  folks, 
otherwise  of  passable  manners,  become  insuffer- 
able whenever  they  attempt  to  take  into  their 
mouths  fluids  of  any  kind,  which  they  never  do 
without  a succession  of  audible  flops.  This  is 
generally  a habit  acquired  in  youth  for  want  of 
proper  direction.  It  would  seem  as  if  nothing 
were  easier  than  to  drink  tea  or  eat  soup  without 
making  an  ugly  noise,  and  yet  there  are  few  who 
seem  capable  of  doing  so.  All  that  is  necessary, 
in  order  to  swallow  a liquid  with  the  quietness 
that  decorum  exacts,  is  to  open  the  lips  w'ell,  and 
to  put  the  spoon  fully  into  the  mouth,  should  its 
use  be  necessary.  All  smacking  of  the  lips,  even 
over  your  host’s  finest  Tokay,  Consular  Seal,  or 
Burgundy,  is  but  a barbarous  mode  of  express- 
ing an  appreciation  of  vinous  excellence,  and  had 


DECENCY  OF  MOTION. 


141 


better  be  left  to  the  drinkers  of  lager  beer  and 
‘‘  Bourbon”  at  the  corner  groggery. 

The  use  of  a toothpick  of  the  proper  kind  is 
essential  to  a due  care  of  the  teeth,  but  should 
be  no  more  exposed  to  public  notice  than  any 
other  necessary  but  unpleasantly  suggestive  ar« 
tide  of  the  toilette. 

Unlike  those  of  some  races,  as  the  Oriental 
and  the  various  Latin  nations,  the  English  and 
North  American  people  do  not  show,  in  ordi- 
nary conversation,  much  flexibility  of  expres- 
sion or  movement.  The  best  bred  with  us  are 
apt  to  be  composed,  even  to  stiffness.  A certain 
degree  of  action,  provided  it  be  always  graceful, 
is  not  only  consistent  with,  but  absolutely  essen- 
tial to  a decorous  bearing.  The  “ jorincipal  part 
of  beauty,”  says  Lord  Bacon,  “ is  in  decency  of 
motion.”  The  face  certainly,  and  the  hands  and 
arms,  and  even  the  whole  body,  more  or  less, 
should  move  in  harmony  with  the  discourse  and 
sympathy  with  the  general  tone  of  conversation. 
In  the  interest  of  narrative  and  warmth  of  argu- 
ment, considerable  energy  and  variety  of  gesture 
are  permissible,  but  the  condition  of  grace  must 
be  exacted.  We  knew  an  emphatic  talker,  who 
was  generally  listened  to  with  attention,  and 
justly  so,  for  he  had  often  much  to  say  to  the  pur- 
pose, and  said  it  well,  but  whose  action,  though 


142 


ATTITUDINIZING. 


ordinarily  not  without  grace,  occasionally  took 
a turn  contrary  to  all  the  proprieties.  In  the 
height  of  conversation  he  would  suddenly  jump 
up,  seize  each  tail  of  his  faultless  dress-coat,  and, 
turning  round  and  round  like  a whirling  dervish, 
make  such  an  unreserved  revelation  to  all  the 
company  of  his  proportions,  that  modesty  was 
shocked,  and  laughter  could  hardly  hold  its  sides. 
The  action  was,  of  course,  fatal  to  the  eloquence 
it  was  intended  to  illustrate. 

Ordinary  people,  who  do  not  set  up  for  bril- 
liant talkers  or  powerful  disputants,  had  better 
cultivate  a uniform  composure  of  manner.  Let 
their  bearing  be  easy  and  decorous,  without  lax- 
ity or  stiffness. 

To  attitudinize,  or  poser^  as  the  French  term 
it,  with  the  view  of  producing  an  impressive  ef- 
fect upon  the  beholder,  seldom  succeeds  except 
with  the  rawest  members  of  society.  When  de- 
tected, as  it  always  is  by  accomplished  people 
of  the  world,  it  creates,  at  first  sight,  a feeling 
of  aversion  which  is  not  easy  to  eradicate. 

This  posing  for  effect  is  so  old  a trick,  and  so 
easy  of  detection,  that  it  is  surprising  any  per- 
son who  has  reached  years  of  discretion  should 
attempt  to  play  it.  Yet  how  often  do  we  see  it, 
in  its  various  phases  of  the  delicate  young  lady 
with  the  languid  air,  the  listless  step,  or  die-away 


AWKWAED  USE  OF  HANDS. 


143 


posture ! — the  literary  young  lady,  with  the  stu- 
diously neglected  toilette,  the  carefully  exposed 
breadth  of  forehead,  and  the  ever-present,  but 
seldom-read  book  ! — the  abstemious  young  lady, 
who  surreptitiously  feeds  on  chops  at  private 
lunch,  and  starves  on  a pea  at  the  public  din- 
ner ! — the  humane  young  lady,  who  pulls  Tom’s 
ears  and  otherwise  tortures  brother  and  sister  in 
the  nursery,  and  does  her  utmost  to  fall  into  con- 
vulsions before  company  at  the  sight  of  a dead 
fly  ! — and  the  fastidious  young  lady,  who  faints, 
should  there  be  an  audience  to  behold  the  scene, 
at  the  sight  of  roast  goose,  but  whose  robust  ap- 
petite vindicates  itself  by  devouring  all  that  is 
left  of  the  unclean  animal  when  a private  op- 
portunity will  allow.  We  assure  our  young 
damsels  that  such  affectations  are  not  only  ab- 
surd, for  they  are  perfectly  transparent,  but  ill 
bred,  as  shams  of  all  kinds  essentially  are. 

The  management  of  the  hands  in  company 
seems  to  embarrass  young  people  greatly.  This 
comes  from  the  false  modesty,  or  mauvaise  honte^ 
which  induces  them  to  suppose  they  are  the  ob- 
served of  all  observers.  Let  them  think  only  of 
themselves  in  due  proportion  of  estimate  with  the 
vast  multitude  of  mankind,  and  frequent  habitu- 
ally the  company  of  the  refined,  and  they  will 
probably  overcome  much  of  their  awkwardness, 
it  they  do  not  acquire  a large  degree  of  grace. 


144  ELOQUENCE  MADE  DUMB. 

There  is  nothing  more  annoying  to  other  peo- 
ple who  may  be  present  than  the  noise  whieh  a 
person  will  sometimes  make  by  snapping  a tooth- 
pick, jingling  a watch-chain,  creaking  a chair, 
opening  and  shutting  a pencil  or  knife,  tapping 
the  boot  with  a cane,  or  making  any  kind  of 
noise  or  movement  which  irresistibly  and  dis- 
agreeably attracts  the  general  attention. 

Every  one  should  be  particular  to  avoid  ac- 
quiring in  youth  the  habit  of  fumbling  with  any 
part  of  the  person  or  thing  appertaining  to  it. 
It  is  astonishing  how  fixed  this  may  become.  So 
completely  are  such  habits,  in  cases  of  long  prac- 
tice, associated  with  the  action  of  the  person, 
that  they  seem  to  bo  incorporated  into  his  very 
structure,  as  it  Avere.  There  are  people  Avho,  if 
suddenly  deprived  of  the  means  of  practicing 
some  ugly  and  habitual  trick,  will  be  so  para- 
lyzed in  brain  and  tongue  as  to  be  incapable  of 
continuing  a train  of  thought  or  current  of 
speech.  We  knew  a lawyer,  learned  in  Black- 
stone,  and  an  eloquent  advocate,  who  had  ac- 
quired the  habit  of  twisting  a piece  of  paper  and 
tAvirling  it  between  his  fingers  during  his  address- 
es to  Court  and  jury.  Whenever  some  roguish 
brother,  as  sometimes  occurred,  would  take  the 
opportunity  of  the  speaker  dropping  the  paper 
momentarily  during  a pause  in  his  argument  to 


HAND-SHAKING. 


145 


remove  it,  his  embarrassment  became  extreme. 
He  stared  anxiously  around,  fumbled  every  where 
with  his  fingers  about  the  law  books  and  briefs, 
stammered  out  a few  incoherent  words,  blushed 
(for  even  he,  lawyer  as  he  was,  would  blush  on 
such  an  occasion),  and  was  entirely  unable  to  col- 
lect his  thoughts  and  renew  his  speech  until 
some  merciful  comrade  (probably  the  guilty 
brother)  had  restored  to  his  hands  its  plaything, 
and  to  his  mind  and  tongue  their  cunning. 

It  is  well  when  these  ugly  tricks  do  not  take 
the  most  offensive  form;  but  occasionally  we  find 
persons,  otherwise  incapable  of  ill  breeding,  who 
will  pick  their  noses,  clean  their  nails,  and  scratch 
their  heads  before  all  kinds  of  company,  and  re- 
main perfectly  unconscious,  from  the  insensibility 
of  habit,  of  their  offensive  acts. 

Hand-shaking  is  a national  custom  which  we 
have  in  common  with  our  English  relatives  from 
whom  we  derived  it.  In  private  intercourse 
they  probably  carry  it  to  a greater  excess  than 
we,  but  on  certain  public  occasions  we  practice 
it  far  more  than  they.  Our  sovereign  people  in- 
sist upon  giving  their  Briarean  hands  to  every 
domestic  notability  and  distinguished  foreign 
visitor.  All  the  famous  men  from  abroad  who 
have  become  our  national  guests,  from  the  Mar- 
quis de  Lafayette  to  Kossuth,  have  been  forced 
K 


146 


DEMOCEATIC  INTEUSIVENESS. 


to  submit  to  this  manipulation  by  the  universal 
democracy.  Lafayette,  with  true  French  polite- 
ness, yielded  gracefully  to  this  demand  for  a 
touch  of  his  glove  by  twenty  millions  of  people, 
but  he  became  very  sparing  of  speech.  He  only 
asked  of  each  one  who  came  up,  as  he  shook 
hands  with  him,  “ Are  you  a married  man  ?”  If 
the  answer  was  “Yes,”  the  marquis  rejoined, 
“Happy  fellow  !”  If  the  answer  was  “ No,”  he 
exclaimed,  “ Lucky  dog !”  With  this  meagre 
luggage  of  nine  words  the  economical  marquis 
is  said  to  have  kept  himself  in  ready  English 
speech,  and  made  a creditable  appearance  during 
his  whole  journey  from  Maine  to  Georgia.  No 
makeshift,  however,  would  avail  him  as  a sub- 
stitute for  the  giving  of  his  hand,  which,  at  the 
end  of  his  triumphal  march,  was  fairly  shaken 
into  a paralysis.  This  kind  of  hospitality  to 
public  men  is  more  honored  in  the  breach  than 
the  observance,  for,  expanding  naturally  with 
the  wonderful  increase  of  our  population,  it  has 
finally  become  insupporfably  liberal.  The  in- 
trusive curiosity  to  see  and  touch  the  great,  to 
their  manifest  discomfort,  is  as  far  removed  from 
decorum  as  reverence.  Our  public  personages 
will  be  forced,  before  long,  in  self-protection,  to 
resist  this  democratic  intrusiveness.  No  popu- 
lar favorite  can  physically  endure  to  have  hia 


LOYAL  intrusivenp:ss. 


147 


hand  often  shaken  by  forty  million  sturdy  fellow- 
citizens,  or  even  to  bear  pecuniarily  the  expense 
to  which  the  thousands  of  gloves  necessary  to 
guard  it  must  amount. 

A president  held  in  such  reverence  that  he  can 
safely  resist  the  inordinate  humors  of  the  de- 
mocracy should  venture  to  reform  the  official 
manners  of  the  nation.  He  could  be  surround- 
ed without  hedging  himself,  as  doth  a king,  with 
more  ceremonial  observances,  to  the  manifest  in- 
crease of  his  own  comfort  and  the  improvement 
of  the  manners  of  his  fellow-citizens.  With  all 
our  informality,  however,  we  have  not  yet  reach- 
ed that  pertinacious  intrusiveness  of  British  loy- 
alty which  will  follow  the  scent  of  queen,  prince, 
or  princess  not  only  from  the  palace  door  through 
every  street  and  over  the  whole  country,  but  pur- 
sue it  across  seas,  and  throughout  the  width  of 
the  broadest  continent.'^ 

Personal  reserve  is  far  less  easy  of  attainment 
in  the  United  States  than  in  most  countries.  Our 

* It  lately  transpired  that  the  Princess  of  Wales  was  about 
k'esorting  for  her  health  to  the  baths  of  Wildbad,  in  Wurtem- 
berg.  To  avoid  being  hunted  up  by  a throng  of  eager  pur- 
suers, she  slipped  away  disguised  by  an  incognito ; but,  not- 
withstanding, her  scent  was  caught,  taken  quickly  up,  and 
followed  pertinaciously  to  her  dinner-table  in  the  little  Ger- 
man town,  where,  at  the  last  accounts,  her  subjects  were  quar- 
reling over  the  cherry-stones  ejected  from  the  i)rincely  mouth. 


148 


LOVE  OF  PUBLICITY. 


political  institutions,  by  their  recognition  of  the 
equal  rights  of  all  men,  call  upon  each  individual 
to  manifest  himself  Every  American  being  thus 
not  only  free  to  speak  and  act,  but  feeling  it  his 
duty  to  do  so,  becomes,  more  or  less,  a public 
man.  The  political  influence  extends  to  the  so- 
cial habits,  and  we  have,  in  consequence,  but  lit- 
tle privacy  of  life. 

Our  love  of  publicity  is  shown  by  the  grega- 
rious modes  in  which  we  live  and  move.  That 
great  caravansary,  the  American  hotel,  is  a 
characteristic  expression  of  the  national  protest 
against  individual  separateness.  It  is  construct- 
ed on  the  principle  that  it  is  not  good  for  any 
human  being  to  be  alone  except  when  he  is 
asleep,  and  even  then  it  is  not  seldom  that  he  is 
provided  with  one  or  more  companions.  The 
bedrooms  are  made  just  large  enough  to  lie 
down  in,  and  are  evidently  only  designed  for 
that  purpose.  These,  thrust  far  away  under  the 
eaves,  are  ordinarily  the  only  provision  for  the 
individual.  The  rest,  composing  much  the  lar- 
ger and  most  accessible  part  of  the  structure,  is 
appropriated  to  the  public,  for  whom,  moreover, 
all  the  splendor  and  convenience  are  exclusively 
furnished.  So  much  is  the  American  hotel  con- 
structed for  the  especial  advantage  of  the  aggre- 
gate many,  vind  so  little  are  the  requirements  of 


GREGARIOUSNESS. 


149 


the  particular  one  considered,  that,  while  thou- 
sands are  feasted  there  luxuriously  at  certain 
hours  every  day,  no  single  hungry  man  can,  at 
any  other  moment,  get  a chop  or  a potato  to 
save  himself  from  starving. 

In  traveling  the  same  gregarious  practices  ob- 
tain, and  no  one,  however  tender  of  body  and 
fastidious  in  mind,  can  entirely  escape  the  nudge 
of  the  elbow  or  the  shock  from  the  words  of  a 
rude  neighboi*. 

This  shaking  together,  so  universal  with  us, 
has  not  been  without  its  marked  effects  upon  the 
character  and  manners  of  our  people.  The  good 
may  be  thought  by  some  to  transcend  the  bad. 
It  has  led,  undoubtedly,  to  a fuller  recognition 
of  common  interests  and  mutual  obligation,  and 
thus  humanized  the  multitude.  Meeting  togeth- 
er as  we  all  do  on  the  road  and  the  road-side,  in 
the  enjoyment  of  the  same  cheaply -purchased 
privileges,  we  are  forced,  temporarily  at  least, 
to  a social  equality,  which  can  not  fail  to  elevate 
the  spirit  of  the  humble  and  check  the  aspira- 
tions of  the  proud. 

One  of  the  worst  effects  of  the  gregarious  sys- 
tem is  the  perpetual  intrusiveness  of  the  many 
upon  the  retirement  which  is  at  times  necessary 
and  pleasing  to  each  person.  The  uniformity  of 
sentiment,  moreover,  w^hich  is  apt  to  result,  and 


150  CULTIVATION  OF  DOMESTIC  PEI  VAC  Y. 

overbear  the  private  judgment  and  the  individ- 
ual conscience,  may  be  also  considered  as  one  of 
the  most  serious  evils.  There  is  a certain  bold- 
ness, too,  of  manners,  which  is  more  observable 
and  olFensive  in  the  young  than  in  others,  which 
is  traceable  to  the  publicity  of  American  life. 

We  should,  particularly  in  this  country,  culti- 
vate domestic  privacy  as  the  best  check  to  the 
excessive  tendency  to  gregariousness.  We,  on 
the  contrary,  are  apt  to  cultivate  the  latter  at 
the  expense  of  the  former;  thus  the  practice 
common  with  us  of  living  in  hotels  and  board- 
ing-houses, where  that  reserve  so  necessary  to 
the  development  of  the  individual  character  and 
the  acquisition  of  modest  manners  is  impossible. 

There  will  be  always  a publicity  naturally  re- 
sulting from  our  political  and  social  institutions 
which  can  not  be  avoided.  It  behooves  us,  there- 
fore, to  augment  its  good  and  diminish  its  ill  ef- 
fects as  far  as  it  lies  in  our  power.  As  we  can 
not  get  rid  of  each  other,  let  us  make  ourselves 
mutually  useful  and  agreeable  by  the  improve- 
ment of  our  sentiments  and  manners.  With  the 
greater  publicity  in  America,  public  opinion  is 
necessarily  more  extensive  in  its  influence,  and 
therefore  it  is  especially  important  that  it  should 
be  exerted  in  favor  of  the  good  and  beautiful. 

In  private  life  in  this  country  the  hand  is  not 


BOWS  AND  NODS. 


151 


often  given  except  to  intimate  friends  and  rela- 
tives. In  England  it  is  more  freely  extended  to 
those  met  for  the  first  time.  Ordinarily  it  should 
be  left  to  the  older  or  more  distinguished  to  make 
the  proffer  of  the  hand.  Cavaliers  and  dames  in 
this  country,  as  in  France,  seldom  extend  to  each 
other  the  hand  unless  there  is  a great  difference 
of  age  and  position,  or  much  intimacy  of  rela- 
tion. Whenever  the  hand  is  given,  it  is  not  nec- 
essary to  draw  off  the  glove,  as  some  attempt  to 
do,  with  a great  deal  of  fuss  and  consequent  em- 
barrassment. 

There  is  a great  deal  of  tact  required  in  adapt- 
ing the  salutation  to  the  occasion.  The  mere  nod, 
which  is  allowable,  perhaps,  between  the  com- 
rades of  a school  and  college,  the  “ fellows”  of  an 
office,  a counting-house  and  shop,  or  the  cronies 
and  ‘‘friends”  of  girlhood,  should  never  be  passed 
between  courteous  people  of  full  growth  and  age. 
They  should  give  an  unequivocal  bow  or  courte- 
sy, which,  however,  women  are  not  expected  to 
stop  when  under  full  headway,  and  make  ac- 
cording to  the  principles  laid  down  by  their  last 
dancing-master.  A graceful  bend  of  the  head  and 
shoulders  is  all  that  is  necessary.  A gentleman 
will  raise  his  hat  fairly  from  the  head,  and  not 
limit  his  salutation  to  a mere  touch  of  the  rim, 
like  a coachman  or  a waiter.  The  salutation  is 


152  KECOGNITION  OF  ACQUAINTANCES. 


made  to  suit  the  various  degrees  of  intimacy  by 
the  accompanying  expression  of  the  face,  which 
can  indicate  familiarity  by  a smile  or  look  of 
conscious  recognition,  and  reserve  by  a com- 
posed aspect  and  an  indifferent  glance.  The  va- 
riations are,  however,  not  easily  defined  in  words, 
though  discerned  without  difficulty  in  action, 
and  must  therefore  be  left  to  the  individual 
tact. 

On  meeting  a friend  in  company  with  a lady, 
though  a stranger,  it  is  necessary  to  be  very 
particular  in  giving  the  bow  all  its  fullness  and 
formality,  that  it  may  indicate  respect  for  the 
dame,  as  well  as  intimacy  Avith  the  cavalier. 
So,  too,  when  two  male  friends  walking  together 
meet  the  female  acquaintance  of  one,  it  behooves 
both  to  raise  their  hats. 

It  is  common,  in  this  country  and  in  England, 
to  await  the  recognition  of  the  lady  before  bow- 
ing, though  in  France  it  is  the  reverse;  but  in 
the  three  countries,  where  the  intimacy  is  great, 
the  mutual  salutation  is  ordinarily  simultaneous. 

When,  in  the  park  or  public  promenade,  there 
is  constant  passing  and  repassing,  it  is  found 
convenient  to  limit  the  formal  recognition  of  an 
acquaintance  to  the  salutation  on  first  sight. 

The  chance  meeting  of  a person  at  the  house 
of  a common  friend,  Avhen  there  has  been  no 


MUTILATED  COURTESY. 


153 


formal  introduction,  is  not  considered  a neces* 
sary  reason  for  giving  or  expecting  a salutation. 
Where  either,  however,  bestows  it,  it  should  be 
courteously  and  fully  returned.  The  French  are 
more  liberal  of  their  courtesies  than  we  and  our 
reserved  relatives  in  England.  A Frenchman 
will  take  off  his  hat  to  any  person  he  may  meet 
on  the  outside  steps  of  his  own  or  a friend’s 
house,  as  he  thinks  that  the  mere  fact  of  this 
common  relation  to  the  same  house,  though  it 
be  transitory,  establishes  a bond  of  communion, 
however  slight,  demanding  acknowledgment. 

A lady  seated  in  a room  is  not  expected  to 
rise  from  her  chair  when  saluted  by  a gentleman 
or  by  one  of  her  own  sex  unless  the  latter  be  a 
person  very  much  her  superior  in  age. 

A bow  should  always  be  acknowledged,  by 
whomsoever  proffered,  whether  master  or  man, 
maid  or  mistress,  unless  there  is  a good  reason 
and  an  intention  to  rebuke. 

All  salutations  had  better  be  omitted  than 
given  in  a way  to  indicate  an  unwilling  polite- 
ness. The  clipped  bow,  the  mutilated  courte- 
sy,” as  Goldsmith  calls  it,  and  the  incomplete 
shake  of  the  hand,  in  which  the  scornful  touch 
of  two  fingers  is  made  to  do  service  for  a full 
grasp  with  the  five,  are  odious  mockeries  of  ci- 
vility. 

It  would  seem  to  imply  a great  distrust  of  the 


154 


LONG  NAILS. 


nicety  of  man  and  womankind  to  suggest  to 
them  the  necessity  of  keeping  the  hands  and 
their  appurtenances  in  good  condition.  These 
noticeable  parts  of  the  body  are,  however,  often 
neglected  or  treated  unbecomingly.  The  nails  of 
people  who  boast  to  be  fastidious  in  the  care  of 
their  persons  are  not  seldom  far  from  being  well 
cared  for.  Dean  Swift  was  so  nice  in  this  re- 
spect that  he  used  to  cut  his  nails  to  the  very 
quick  to  secure  their  freedom  from  uncleanlineps 
of  all  kind.  We  do  not  advise  this  mode  of  pre- 
venting a very  disgusting  result,  for  a very  short 
nail  is  not  seemly.*  It  is  an  ugly  practice,  too, 
according  to  our  notions,  to  let  the  nails  grow 
until  they  lengthen  into  claws.  It  was,  howev- 
er, a fashion  in  France  during  the  reign  of  Louis 
XIV.  to  cultivate  a great  length  of  the  uail  of 
the  little  finger,  and  this  was  for  the  purpose  of 
being  able  to  scratch  at  a door,  which  every  vis- 
itor was  expected  to  do,  instead  of  knocking, 
when  wishing  to  gain  admittance  to  a fashion- 
able friend.  Moliere  speaks  of  I’ongle  long” 
that  the  marquis  of  his  day  ‘‘porte  au  petit 
doigt” — that  is,  of  the  long  nail  worn  at  the  end 
cf  the  little  finger. 

* The  inner  part  of  the  nail  should  never  be  scraped  with 
a file  or  cutting  instrument,  for  this  will  produce  a rough 
surface,  in  the  irregularities  of  which  the  dirt  will  lodge,  and 
be  very  difficult  of  removal. 


CIVILIZED  A^D  BARBAEIC  DRESS.  155 


CHAPTER  XII. 

Effect  of  Civilization  on  Dress. — Tlie  opposite  Progress  of 
Man  and  Woman  in  the  Art  of  Dressing. — The  true  Rule 
of  Dress. — Uniformity  of  Dress  in  America. — Inappropri- 
ateness of  Dress. — Sunday-best. 

Civilization  has  done  little  more  for  the  hu- 
man passion  of  personal  adornment  than  extend, 
by  its  progress  in  the  arts,  the  means  of  gratify- 
ing its  barbaric  caprices.  The  taste  in  dress  of 
the  Parisian  dame  of  fashion  is  not  essentially 
more  refined  than  that  of  the  Choctaw  squaw. 
All  the  manufacturing  and  commercial  triumphs 
of  the  nineteenth  century  are,  it  is  true,  more  or 
less  manifest  in  the  complicated  drapery  of  the 
one,  while,  in  the  scant  covering  of  the  other,  ev- 
ery thing  indicates  the  rudeness  and  simplicity 
of  an  artless  nature.  Hair  cut  from  the  head 
of  a Hottentot  woman,  brought  from  remote 
Caffreland,  purified  by  an  elaborate  chemical 
process  of  its  native  foulness,  and  turned  by  in- 
genious machinery  into  the  fashionable  head- 
dress known  as  the  chignon^  implies  great  com- 
mercial enterprise,  scientific  skill,  and  mechan- 
ical ingenuity.  These  are  undoubtedly  among 


156 


MAN  AND  woman’s  DRESS. 


the  forces  to  which  civilized  people  owe  theii 
might  and  superiority  to  barbarians.  The  cliig* 
non^  as  a product,  is  unquestionably  beyond  the 
undeveloped  resources  of  the  whole  Choctaw  na- 
tion. Worn,  however,  as  a head-dress,  with  its 
tumor-like  excrescence  and  morbid  deformity  of 
proportion,  it  indicates  in  the  Avoman  of  civiliza- 
tion no  progress  in  taste  beyond  her  barbaric 
sister  of  the  American  forest  and  prairie.  The 
wild  flowers  and  eagle  feathers  of  the  savage 
are,  in  fact,  vastly  more  chaste  and  beautiful  than 
the  elaborate  monstrosities  woni  by  the  civilized 
being. 

There  has  been  of  late  years  a certain  diverg- 
ence between  masculine  and  feminine  taste  in 
dress.  Woman  has  been  rapidly  becoming  more 
fanciful,  artificial,  elaborate,  and  expensive  in  cos- 
tume, until  she  has  finally  reached  such  a fright- 
ful complexity  of  capricious  finery,  involved  form, 
minute  detail,  A-arious  color,  and  accumulated 
material,  that  she  appears  but  a confused  bale 
of  miscellaneous  dry  goods,  upon  Avhich  nothing 
is  clearly  indicated  but  the  mark  of  the  high 
price. 

Man,  on  the  contrary,  has,  in  these  latter  days, 
with  a great  tendency  to  simplification  of  cos- 
tume, finally  reached  Avhat  Carlisle,  we  believe, 
termed  a series  of  pokes  or  sacks,  loosely  adapt- 


A DEAR  SUIT. 


157 


ed  to  successive  parts  of  the  frame — a sack  for 
the  trunk,  two  sacks  for  the  upper,  and  two  for 
tlie  lower  extremities,  which  form  a complete 
suit  of  masculine  attire.  There  is,  however,  ap- 
parently a disposition  on  the  part  of  the  young 
beaux  to  fall  back  into  the  fantastic  splendors  of 
past  time,  and  there  may  now  be  occasionally 
seen  an  increased  elaborateness  of  make  in  the 
coat  and  trowsers,  and  showiness  of  display  in 
the  cravat,  shirt  bosom,  and  Avaistcoat.  With 
all  this,  however,  there  is  generally  a commend- 
able simjDlicity  in  men’s  attire.  The  change  is 
immense  from  the  laced  ruffles,  embroidered  scar- 
let coats,  and  breeches  of  brilliant  satin,  silk 
stockings,  and  diamond  buckles  of  our  ancestors 
of  a hundred  and  fifty  years  ago.  Think  of  poor 
Goldsmith  promising  to  pay — an  obligation  he 
was  much  more  ready  to  assume  than  perform — 
£50,  or  two  hundred  and  fifty  dollars,  a cen- 
tury ago,  when  money  Avas  much  more  valuable 
than  at  present,  for  his  suit  of  Tyrian  bloom,” 
in  order  to  shine  in  the  beloved  eyes  of  the  “ Jes- 
samy  bride.”  Not  tAventy  years  since,  so  elab- 
orately fabricated  was  the  collar  of  a coat,  that 
more  labor  and  money  were  expended  upon  it 
than  are  now  required  to  make  and  pay  for  a 
Avhole  suit  of  clothes.  Taste  and  convenience 
have  gained  much  by  the  increased  simplicity 


158 


HOW  TO  DRESS  WELD. 


of  man’s  costume,  and  it  must  be  acknowledged 
that  his  plain  garments,  if  they  do  not  express 
so  fully  the  progress  of  the  arts  as  woman’s  rich 
habiliments,  indicate,  by  their  fitness,  more  cer- 
tainly the  advanced  intelligence  of  the  age  than 
her  superfluously  elaborate  but  barbaric  finery. 

We  are  far  from  advising  a general  indiffer 
ence  to  dress,  however  justifiable  we  might  think 
the  renunciation  of  some  of  the  superfluities  of 
modern  female  costume.  Chesterfield,  in  urging 
upon  his  son  a due  attention  to  his  clothes,  says 
a man  of  sense  dresses  as  well,  and  in  the  same 
manner,  as  the  people  of  sense  and  fashion  of  the 
place  where  he  is.  If  he  dresses  better,  as  he 
thinks — that  is,  more  than  they — he  is  a fop ; if 
he  dresses  worse,  he  is  unpardonably  negligent ; 
but  of  the  two,  I would  rather  have  a young  fel- 
low too  much  than  too  little  dressed ; the  excess 
on  that  side  will  wear  off  with  a little  age  and 
reflection ; but,”  he  adds,  in  a sentence  which 
seems  strong,  coming  from  his  perfumed  pres- 
ence, “ if  he  is  negligent  at  tioenty^  he  will  he  a 
sloven  at  forty  ^ and  stink  at  fifty  years  old?'^ 

His  lordship,  in  continuing  his  advice,  makes 
these  sensible  remarks:  Dress  yourself  fine 
where  others  are  fine,  and  plain  where  others 
are  plain ; but  take  care  always  that  your 
clothes  are  well  made  and  fit  you,  for  otherwise 


AVOID  EXTREMES. 


159 


they  Avill  give  you  a very  awkward  air.  When 
you  are  once  well  dressed  for  the  day,  think  no 
more  of  it  afterward,  and,  without  any  stilfness 
for  fear  of  discomposing  that  dress,  let  all  your 
motions  be  as  easy  and  natural  as  if  you  had  no 
clothes  on  at  all.” 

It  is  a canon  of  good  taste  in  dress,  as  well  as 
in  all  other  things,  to  avoid  extremes.  A person 
of  taste  will  take  care  not  to  be  the  last  to  leave 
an  old,  or  tlie  first  to  assume  a new  fashion : 

“ Be  not  the  first  by  whom  the  new  are  tried, 

Nor  yet  the  last  to  lay  the  old  aside.  ” 

He  will  never  be  singular  in  his  dress,  for,  like 
all  well-bred  people,  he  v/ould  escape  special  no- 
tice in  his  daily  walks.  It  is  on  this  account 
that  he  does  not  startle  by  a novelty,  or  excite 
curiosity  by  an  antiquity  of  costume.  He  will, 
however,  though  avoiding  in  his  dress  what  may 
force  notice,  be  careful  so  to  order  it  that,  if  by 
chance  it  should  attract  attention,  it  will  be  re- 
marked for  its  taste  and  conformity  with  the  ob- 
servances of  the  refined.  Such  is  considered  dec- 
orous by  the  cultivated  of  both  sexes,  though 
women  ordinarily  do  not  allow  themselves  the 
same  discretion  as  men  in  their  fealty  to  fashion, 
which,  however,  in  this  country  particularly,  is 
too  slavishly  obeyed  by  both  sexes,  with  the 
natural  consequence  that  few  of  either  are  ap 
propriately  clothed. 


160 


DRESS  OF  WORKING  PEOPLE. 


The  uniformity  of  dress  is  a characteristic  of 
the  people  of  the  United  States.  The  man  of 
leisure  and  the  laborer,  the  mistress  and  the 
maid,  wear  clothes  of  the  same  material  and 
cut.  Political  equality  renders  our  countrymen 
and  countrywomen  averse  to  all  distinctions  of 
costume  which  may  be  supposed  to  indicate  a 
difference  of  caste.  The  uniformity  which  re- 
sults is  not  favorable  to  the  picturesque,  and  our 
every-day  world  in  America  has,  in  consequence, 
the  shabby  look  of  being  got  up  by  the  Jews  in 
Chatham  Street,  and  turned  out  in  a universal 
suit  of  second-hand  clothing. 

Our  working-people,  in  vindicating  their  claims 
to  social  equality  by  putting  on  their  heads  the 
stove-pipe  hat  and  flimsy  bonnet,  and  clothing 
their  bodies  in  tight-fitting  coats  and  flowing 
robes,  not  only  interfere  with  the  picturesque, 
which  is  of  minor  importance,  but  make,  w^e 
think,  an  unwise  sacrifice  of  comfort,  conven- 
ience, and  economy.  What  could  be  more  unfa- 
vorable to  that  free  movement  of  the  muscles 
essential  to  those  trades  and  occupations  requir- 
ing the  exercise  of  physical  force  than  the  scant 
coat  and  tight-fitting  trowsers  now  in  vogue? 
It  would  be  as  well  to  put  Hercules  in  a strait' 
jacket,  and  set  him  thus  accoutred  to  slay  the 
hydra,  as  for  our  muscular  sons  of  labor  to  clothe 


FASHION  IN  THE  KITCHEN. 


161 


themselves  in  suits  of  fashionable  cut,  and  so  to 
strive  at  their  mighty  work.  It  is  surprising 
that  the  blouse  of  the  French  workman  is  not 
generally  adopted.  Nothing  can  be  more  grace- 
ful, convenient,  and  economical.  Its  lines  are 
flowing,  its  form  admits  of  perfect  freedom  of 
movement,  and  it  can  be  made  of  a material 
both  cheap  and  lasting.  Artists  generally  adopt 
the  blouse  for  work  in  their  studios,  and  thus 
guarantee  its  tastefulness  as  well  as  utility.  The 
free  American  citizen  has  no  reason  to  scorn  it 
as  a symbol  of  slavery.  The  French  blouse  has 
vindicated  its  title  to  the  drapery  of  a freeman 
in  many  a bloody  encounter  with  tyranny  on 
the  barricades  and  in  the  streets  of  Paris. 

As  for  the  suitableness  of  the  female  dress  of 
fashion  to  working-day  purposes  no  one  will 
venture,  we  suppose,  to  hold  that  crinoline  is 
convenient  in  the  china-closet  or  safe  in  the  prox- 
imity of  a red-hot  stove,  and  that  a flowing  train 
of  silk  is  the  most  appropriate  broom  for  the 
kitchen  floor.  Crinoline  and  train,  however,  are 
constantly  found  in  these  inappropriate  places 
and  dangerous  proximities.  We  can  not  for  the 
world  see  why  Bridget  and  Katarina,  and  their 
mistress  too,  indeed,  when  the  occasion  requires, 
should  not  dress  appropriately — to  their  spheres 
we  do  not  say,  but  to  their  occupations.  Thev 
L 


162 


THE  CHOCOLATE  GIRL. 


would  be  gainers  in  every  respect — in  taste 
comfort,  convenience,  and  economy.  It  is  quite 
a mistake  foi  the  female  servant  to  suppose  that 
by  spending  her  money  in  gaudy  dress  and  mock 
finery  she  advances  her  social  position,  though 
with  her  rustling  silk  she  may  pass  in  the  dark, 
or,  coming  out  of  the  front-door  on  a Sunday,  be 
taken  at  a distance  for  her  mistress.  She  may 
spend  a half  year’s  wages  on  a flimsy  bonnet,  it 
will  not  avail  her — the  sham  lady  Avill  still  be 
manifest.  If  she  has  personal  charms  of  her  own 
and  desires  that  they  should  be  appreciated,  let 
her  take  the  advice  of  the  tasteful,  who  will  tell 
her  that  the  rude  freshness  of  natural  beauty  ap- 
pears to  the  greatest  advantage  in  a plain  set- 
ting. 

A white  cap,  a close-fitting  jacket,  with  sleeves 
neither  so  tight  as  to  hinder  movement  nor  so 
loose  as  to  lap  up  the  gravy  or  sweep  off  the 
sherry  glass,  and  a short  skirt  of  simple  stuff — 
plain  or  many-colored  as  it  may  be — make  an 
appropriate  costume  for  the  household  servant. 
Scraps  of  cotton  lace,  bits  of  bright  ribbon,  and 
collars  and  cufi*s  of  linen,  may  be  added  accord- 
ing to  the  taste.  Any  one  who  has  seen  the 
picture  of  the  Chocolate  Girl  of  the  Dresden 
Gallery  will  not  doubt  of  the  picturesque  capa- 
bilities of  a dress  which  was  so  effective  in  this 


TOO  FINELY  GOT  UP. 


163 


prTticular  instance  that  it  procured  a rich  and 
titled  liusband  for  the  original  of  the  portrait. 

The  female  cap  should  be  insisted  on  as  an 
essential  to  cleanliness  by  those  who  are  not  so 
sentimental  as  to  prefer  to  receive  daily  pledges 
of  the  cook’s  atfection  in  the  shape  of  locks  of 
hair  in  the  soup. 

We  Americans  are  famous  for  putting  our  best 
foot  foremost.  This  practice,  however  commend- 
able on  the  whole,  may  be  carried  too  far  in  par- 
ticular instances.  In  our  eagerness  to  make  a 
good  appearance  we  are  apt  to  become  too  de- 
monstrative. This  shows  itself  in  our  talk, 
which  is  remarkable  for  its  bold  self-assertion ; 
in  our  houses  and  furniture,  which  are  made 
more  to  attract  the  eye  of  the  stranger  than  to 
suit  the  taste  of  the  possessor;  and,  above  all,  in 
our  dress. 

There  are  no  such  universally  well-dressed 
people  in  the  w^orld  as  the  Americans.  It  is  not 
only  that  more  of  them  than  of  any  other  nation 
have  good  clothes  to  their  backs,  but  their  gar- 
ments are  better  made  and  adjusted  to  their 
persons,  and  worn  with  an  easier  grace.  While 
this  much  may  be  allowed,  it  can  not  be  denied 
that  offense  against  taste  and  convenience  of 
dress,  particularly  as  to  time  and  occasion,  is 
frequent  with  us. 


164 


riNEKY  IN  CHURCH. 


We  are  generally  too  finely  got  up  for  the  oi> 
easion.  We  are  apt  to  be,  as  the  French  say, 
endimayiches^  which  we  may  translate  by  the 
coined  word  Stindayjied,  We  often  choose  the 
wrong  time  for  the  display  of  our  personal  fine- 
ry. For  example,  while  the  people  of  the  most 
refined  taste  avoid  all  exhibition  of  rich  dress 
and  flaunting  colors  in  church,  we  ordinarily 
turn  the  sanctuary  into  a show-room  for  the 
tashions.  A well-bred  French  or  English  wom- 
an always  chooses  her  most  sober  and  unnotice- 
able  dress  in  which  to  say  her  prayers  in  public, 
while  an  American  puts  on  her  newest  robe  and 
gayest  bonnet  to  perform  her  genuflections  be- 
fore an  admiring  congregation  of  fellow-worship- 
ers. The  holiest  day  of  the  sacred  calendar, 
Easter  Sunday,  would  lose  all  its  significance  in 
the  mind  of  one  of  our  dames  if  unassociated 
with  the  inauguration  of  the  spring  fashions. 
She  would  no  more  think  of  bowing  her  head  in 
prayer  on  such  an  occasion  unadorned  with  the 
latest  bonnet  of  the  season,  than  walKing  up  the 
church  aisle  on  her  knees. 

We  shall  leave  our  gewgawed  devotees  to 
reconcile  humiliation  in  worship  with  vanHy 
of  dress.  That  is  a problem  which  we  confess 
we  have  neither  the  right  nor  the  capacity  to 
solve.  It  must  be  left  to  the  conscience  of  the 


SIMPLE  ATTIRE  AND  PIETY. 


105 


bedizened  worshiper,  aided  by  the  skillful  casuist- 
ry of  her  theological  director.  How  far  fine 
clothes  may  affect  the  personal  piety  of  the  devo- 
tee we  do  not  pretend  even  to  conjecture,  but 
we  have  a very  decided  opinion  in  regard  to 
their  influence  upon  the  religion  of  others.  The 
fact  is,  that  our  churches  are  so  fluttering  with 
birds  of  fine  feathers  that  no  humble  fowl  will 
venture  in.  It  is  impossible  for  poverty  in  rags 
and  patches,  or  even  in  decent  but  simple  cos- 
tume, to  take  its  seat,  if  it  should  be  so  fortunate 
as  to  find  a place,  by  the  side  of  wealth  in  bro- 
cade and  broadcloth.  The  poor  are  so  awed  by 
the  pretension  of  superior  dress  and  ‘‘  the  proud 
man’s  contumely”  that  they  naturally  avoid  toe 
close  a proximity  to  them. 

The  church  being  the  only  place  on  this  side 
of  the  grave  designed  for  the  rich  and  the  poor 
to  meet  together  in  equal  prostration  before  God, 
it  certainly  should  always  be  kept  free  for  this 
common  humiliation  and  brotherhood.  It  is  so  in 
most  of  the  churches  of  Europe,  where  the  beg- 
gar in  rags  and  wretchedness  and  the  wealthiest 
and  most  eminent,  whose  appropriate  sobriety 
of  dress  leaves  them  without  mark  of  external 
distinction,  kneel  down  together,  equalized  by  a 
common  humiliation,  before  the  only  Superior 
Being.  The  adoption  of  a more  simple  attire  for 


166 


EESTOEING  THE  LEVEL. 


church  on  the  part  of  the  rich  in  this  count rj 
would  have  the  effect,  certainly  not  of  diminish 
ing  their  own  personl  piety,  but  probably  of  in- 
creasing the  disposition  for  religious  observance 
on  the  part  of  the  poor.  Want  of  fine  dress 
would  no  longer,  as  it  is  now,  be  the  common 
motive  for  staying  away  from  the  house  of  wor- 
ship, and  these  would  become  the  common  places 
of  assemblage,  as  on  the  Continent  of  Europe,  for 
the  poor  and  the  rich.  The  result  would  not 
only  be  favorable  to  general  piety,  but  to  social 
harmony,  since  the  union  of  all  classes  on  one 
day  of  the  week,  at  least,  would  tend  to  level  the 
artificial  barriers  of  separation. 

^‘The  distinctions  of  civil  life,”  says  Paley,  in 
one  of  his  most  admired  passages,  “ are  almost 
always  insisted  upon  too  much,  and  urged  too 
far.  Whatever,  therefore,  conduces  to  restore 
the  level,  by  qualifying  the  dispositions  which 
grow  out  of  great  elevation  or  depression  of 
rank,  improves  the  character  on  both  sides.  Now 
things  are  made  to  appear  little  by  being  placed 
beside  what  is  great,  in  which  manner  superi- 
orities, that  occupy  the  whole  field  of  the  imag- 
ination, will  vanish,  or  shrink  to  their  proper  di- 
minutiveness, when  compared  Avith  the  distance 
by  which  even  the  highest  of  men  are  removed 
from  the  Supreme  Being,  and  this  comparison  is 


OVERDRESS  OF  UNMARRIED  GIRLS.  167 

naturally  introduced  by  all  acts  of  joint  worship. 
If  ever  the  poor  man  holds  up  his  head,  it  is  at 
church ; if  ever  the  rich  man  views  him  with  re- 
spect, it  is  there ; and  both  will  bo  the  better, 
and  the  public  profited,  the  oftener  they  meet  in 
a situation  in  which  the  consciousness  of  dignit  y 
in  the  one  is  tempered  and  mitigated,  and  the 
spirit  of  the  other  erected  and  confirmed.” 

The  same  want  of  adaptation  of  the  dress  to 
the  occasion,  as  exhibited  in  female  church  cos- 
tume, is  shown  by  the  habit  prevalent  among 
our  dames  of  putting  on  their  showiest  garments 
whenever  going  out,  even  should  it  be  for  the 
performance  only  of  the  most  ordinary  duty  con- 
nected with  the  household.  Whether  it  is  to 
the  shop  to  buy  a dozen  kitchen  towels,  to  the 
grocer’s  to  dabble  in  butter,  or  to  the  butcher’s 
to  dribble  in  the  blood  of  a sirloin,  she  is  the 
same  finely-dressed  personage.  She  more  fre- 
quently, however,  avoids  the  inconsistency  of 
performing  humble  duties  in  lofty  attire  by 
shifting  them  to  the  lowlier  and  more  soberly- 
clad  shoulders  of  her  husband.  This  is  one,  and 
not  the  least,  of  the  ill  effects  of  this  habit  of  fe- 
male overdress.  It  unfits  women  for  the  simple 
and  unostentatious  duties  of  household  life. 

Our  unmarried  girls  are  entirely  overdressed. 
They  are  allowed  to  wear  such  suits  as  are  never 


168 


CAUSE  OF  FEMALE  KUIN. 


worn  by  modest  maidens  in  Europe,  and  are 
hardly  seen  in  public  upon  the  most  matronlj 
persons.  The  young  miss,  flauntingly  costumed, 
is  sure  to  attract  a notice  in  the  streets  which 
should  not  be  agreeable  to,  and  is  hardly  safe  for, 
virgin  modesty. 

Our  countrywomen,  as  also  our  countrymen, 
are  recognized  immediately  on  the  highways  of 
travel  by  the  finery  of  their  dress.  The  glisten- 
ing black  coat  and  satin  waistcoat,  and  the  silk 
gown  and  flimsy  bonnet  of  fashion,  are  discerned 
at  once  amidst  the  dust  of  the  railway  and  the 
smoke  of  the  steamer  as  American  national  pe- 
culiarities. 

Apart  from  the  obvious  advantage  on  the 
score  of  economy  of  adapting  the  dress  to  the 
occasion,  there  are  certain  moral  effects  of  higher 
importance  which  might  be  expected  from  a na- 
tional reform  in  this  particular.  Overdress  leads 
to  false  expectations,  and  confirms  a deceitful 
vanity  which  prompts  to  pretense  of  wealth,  and 
all  the  iniquitous  means  by  which  it  may  be 
supported.  It  has  more  to  do  than  any  other 
single  cause  with  the  fall  of  woman,  the  bank- 
ruptcy  of  husbands,  and  the  ruin  of  families.  Itc 
effect  in  destroying  female  reserve,  especially  that 
of  the  young,  as  it  thus  takes  away  one  of  the  best 
safeguards  of  virtue,  makes  it  very  pernicious. 


ADVANTAGE  OF  MODEST  DR::SS. 


169 


The  excess  of  dress  is  certainly  the  cause  of 
much  of  tlie  characteristic  vice  of  the  day  ; and 
with  the  general  adoption  of  a more  modest  at- 
tire^  there  would  be  less  temptation  to  that  part, 
at  least,  of  the  prevalent  ill  doing  for  which 
women  are  responsible. 


170 


SUPEKFINERY. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

Superfinery  of  Dress. — Overdressed  Women. — Slatterns  at 
Home.  — Hygiene  of  Dress. — Child-hardening. — Its  Cruelty 
and  Folly. — Stove-pipe  Hats  and  Dress-coats. 

While  neatness  and  propriety  are  always 
obligatory,  and  lachness  may  be  occasionally  al- 
lowed, superfinery  of  dress  is  never  permissible. 
This  is,  indeed,  so  far  relative,  that  what  may 
be  regarded  as  excessively  ornamental  or  ex- 
pensive for  one  person,  may  be  only  plain  or 
even  mean  for  another.  If  there  are  to  be  fine 
people  who  are  neither  to  toil  nor  to  spin,  it 
may  be  proper  that  they  should  be  set  off  with 
fine  array.  They,  as  the  lay  figures,  the  male 
and  female  manikins  upon  which  Fashion  hangs 
her  tinsel  stuffs,  variegated  streamers,  and  showy 
gewgaws,  may  be  indispensable  as  society  is 
now  constituted.  These,  whatever  superincum- 
bent finery  they  may  sustain,  are  only  fulfilling 
their  vocation,  but  ordinary  people  are  not  call- 
ed upon  to  submit  to  the  same  oppressiveness 
of  splendor. 

People  of  nice  taste  will  strive  at  a certain 


PRESUMING  ON  MARITAL  rNOIFFERENCE.  171 

uniformity  of  dress.  They  will  not  be  all  sbab* 
biness  to-day  and  finery  to-morrow,  but,  while 
adapting  their  attire  to  the  occasion,  will  avoid 
both  extremes,  and  thus  be  always  deco]*ously 
dressed. 

It  is  the  overdressed  dame  of  the  promenade 
and  drawing-room  who  is  the  most  apt  to  be 
the  slattern  of  the  domestic  parlor  and  nursery. 
The  woman  who  makes  a point  of  dressing,  as 
she  calls  it,  for  company,  is  generally  very  indif- 
ferent to  the  aspect  she  presents  at  home.  With 
her  there  is  no  decent  mean  between  dress  and 
undress,  the  stiffness  of  formality  and  the  laxity 
of  negligence.  She  is  like  the  tragedy  queen  of 
the  play-house — a splendid  sovereign  before  the 
foot-lights,  and  a dirty  drab  behind  the  scenes. 

The  moderately  dressed  woman,  on  the  con- 
trary, generally  makes  a uniform  appearance  of 
becoming  neatness.  Guided  by  good  taste  and 
sense,  she  dresses  for  home,  knowing  that  what 
is  decorous  there  will  be  always  presentable  to 
any  company  elsewhere.  There  are  many  wives 
of  a fashionable  tendency  who  presume  too  much 
on  marital  indulgence  or  indifference.  These 
think  that,  after  having  caught  their  birds  with 
chaff,  they  may  throw  it  to  the  winds ; but  birds 
thus  taken  are  only  to  be  kept  by  a continued 
supply.  Any  woman  who,  after  havmg  won  a 


172 


SHABBY  NEGLIGENCE. 


husband  by  her  fashionable  airs,  expects  to  re* 
tain  his  affections  by  a careless  indifference  to 
her  appearance  at  home,  will  find  out  probably 
her  mistake,  and,  it  is  to  be  hoped,  before  it  may 
be  too  late. 

The  most  fatal  error  a woman  can  make  is  to 
presume  thus  far  upon  her  privileges  as  a wife. 
No  man  can  long  endure  a slattern  at  home,  and 
especially  if  she  appears  the  fine  lady  abroad, 
and  thus  shows  her  contemptuous  preference  of 
the  opinion  of  others  to  his. 

Women  of  moderate  means,  instead  of  con- 
centrating their  pecuniary  forces  upon  this  or 
that  showy  and  expensive  article  of  toilette,  in 
order  to  dress  for  company,  while  they  remain 
in  a shabby  negligence  at  home,  Avould  do  more 
wisely  to  provide  themselves  Avitli  an  abundant 
and  decorous  household  wardrobe.  A wise  and 
true  wife  will  take  care  that  her  house  shall  al- 
ways wear  an  aspect  cheerful  and  alluring  to 
her  husband.  Men  confess  to  the  weakness,  if  a 
weakness,  of  being  greatly  attracted  and  influ- 
enced in  their  disposition  to  love  by  the  mere 
dress  of  woman.  Fielding,  w^ho  had  a wife 
whom  he  loved,  and  who  was  altogether  worthy 
of  his  love,  says  of  her,  in  that  minute  portraiture 
of  her  charms  in  his  ‘‘Amelia,”  that  with  the  as- 
sistance of  a little  girb  who  w^as  their  only  serv* 


CHEAPNESS  OF  DECORUM. 


1T3 


ant,  she  managed  to  dress  the  dinner,  and  like- 
wise  “ dressed  herself  as  neat  as  any  lady  who 
had  a regular  set  of  servants  could  have  done.” 
This  charming  woman  was  also  equally  attentive 
to  every  other  domestic  duty.  She  took  as  much 
pleasure  in  cooking  ‘‘  as  a fine  lady  generally  en- 
joys in  dressing  herself  for  a ball.”  She,  more* 
over,  ‘‘  never  let  a day  pass  without  instructing 
her  children  in  some  lesson  of  religion  and  mo- 
rality; by  which  means  she  had,  in  their  tender 
minds,  so  strongly  annexed  the  ideas  of  fear  and 
shame  to  every  idea  of  evil  of  which  they  were 
susceptible,  that  it  must  have  taken  great  pains 
and  length  of  habit  to  separate  them.”  Neat- 
ness and  order  in  the  personal  dress  of  the  house- 
wife are  thus  generally  accompanied  by  regular- 
ity and  completeness  in  the  performance  of  ev- 
ery domestic  duty. 

To  appear  well  dressed  in  the  eye  of  the  man 
requires  no  great  outlay  of  money,  for  it  is  noto- 
rious that  he  prefers  the  elegance  of  simplicity 
to  all  the  display  of  expensive  art.  The  neat 
maid  thus  is  not  seldom  more  to  his  taste  than 
the  show’y  mistress.  He  asks  only  for  neatness, 
fitness,  and  harmony  of  color.  If  women  dress- 
ed only  to  please  him,  they  might  dispense  with 
nine  tenths  of  the  expenditure  upon  their  toi- 
lettes. But  w^omen  dress  to  please--we  w^ere 


174: 


RECKLESSNESS  OF  FASHION, 


going  to,  but  should  rather  say,  displease — each 
other,  for  their  main  object  seems  to  be  to  pro- 
voke the  envy  of  their  sisters  by  an  impossible 
costliness  of  attire. 

A not  uncommon  evil  of  the  love  of  finery  in 
dress  is  the  disregard  to  which  it  leads  of  the 
comfortable  and  wholesome.  The  absurd,  tight- 
fitting  black  cloth  dress  suit  is  w^orn  in  midsum- 
mer, and  the  ballroom  robe  of  gauze  in  the  cold- 
est winter.  Many  a delicate  frame  shivers  be- 
neath a flimsy  and  imperfect  covering,  which  is 
only  put  on  because  it  is  conformable  with  some 
capricious  idea  of  becomingness.  Fashion,  by 
her  reckless  disregard  of  the  laws  of  nature  and 
health,  has  sent  hecatombs  of  her  most  faithful 
devotees  to  premature  graves.  The  hygiene  of 
dress  is  a subject  which  has  been  much  neglect- 
ed, but  deserves  to  be  thoroughly  studied. 

In  this  country,  deriving  our  fashions  as  we 
do  from  regions  in  a different  latitude  and  hemi- 
sphere from  our  own,  we  seldom  wear,  in  any  di- 
vision of  the  year,  the  clothes  suitable  to  the 
season.  The  winter  garments,  especially  of  our 
women  and  children,  are  seldom  warm  enough. 

The  philosophy  of  dress  is  not  difficult  to  mas-* 
ter,  for  all  that  is  required  for  the  purpose  is  the 
application  of  a few  of  the  elementary  laws  of 
chemistry. 


PHILOSOPHY  OF  DRESS. 


m 


The  popular  notion  that  the  body  receives 
warmth  from  the  covering,  whatsoever  it  may 
be,  that  is  put  upon  it,  is,  according  to  science, 
an  error.  All  the  heat  we  have  is  of  our  own 
making,  and  is  the  result  of  the  perpetual  coim 
bustion  going  on  in  us  and  every  living  animal 
The  fat  of  what  we  eat,  being  chiefly  carbon,  or 
charcoal,  supplies  the  fuel,  and  the  oxygen  of  the 
air  we  breathe  may  be  considered  the  fire  which 
burns  it.  Scientifically,  however,  it  is  the  act  of 
combination  of  these  two  elements — carbon  and 
oxygen — which  constitutes  the  combustion  from 
which  results  the  heat  of  our  bodies. 

The  only  purpose  of  dress,  apart  from  satisfy- 
ing the  demands  of  decency  and  fashion,  is  to 
facilitate  or  prevent  the  escape  of  the  natural 
warmth  of  the  animal  system.  In  summer  we 
accordingly  try  to  get  rid  of  it,  and  in  winter, 
on  the  contrai'y,  Ave  strive  to  retain  it.  The  for- 
mer is  done  by  covering  the  body  lightly  with 
such  materials  as  favor,  and  the  latter  by  cloth- 
ing ourselves  heavily  with  such  textures  as  op- 
pose the  passage  of  heat.  The  dress  of  summer 
is  accordingly  of  thin,  close  texture,  ordinarily 
white  in  color,  and  composed  of  cotton  or  linern 
That  of  winter  is  of  a thick,  loose  texture,  gener- 
ally black  or  dark,  and  made  of  silk  and  avooI. 
Tliis,  AA^hich  is  the  result  of  the  experience  of 


176 


CHEMISTRY  OF  DRESS. 


ages,  accords  in  every  respect  with  the  principles 
of  science. 

Chemistry  divides  substances  into  conductors 
and  non-conductors  of  heat.  Tissues  of  close, 
thin  texture,  such  as  cotton  and  linen,  are  good 
conductors,  and  thus  are  suitable  for  summer 
dress,  as  tliey  conduct  away  or  carry  olf  rapidly 
tne  warmth  of  the  body.  Thick,  loose  textures, 
made  of  wool  or  silk,  are,  on  the  other  hand,  non^ 
or  bad  conductors,  and  do  not  conduct  away  or 
carry  off  rapidly  the  animal  heat,  and  are  thus 
adapted  to  clothing  the  body  in  winter. 

Dr.  Franklin’s  experiment  proves  that  color 
has  a decided  influence  upon  the  absorption  of 
solar  heat.  He  spread  several  pieces  of  cloth 
of  varied  tints  upon  the  snow  exposed  to  the 
warmth  of  the  sun,  and  found  that  the  snow  be- 
neath the  black  melted  the  most  rapidly,  and 
that  below  the  white  the  least  so.  Whenever 
the  Avearer  is  exposed  to  the  rays  of  the  sun,  he 
wdll  find  a black  dress  hotter  than  a white  one. 
In  winter,  accordingly,  he  will  do  well  to  choose 
the  former,  and  in  summer  the  latter. 

The  make  as  well  as  the  material  cf  the  dress 
has  a great  deal  to  do  with  its  warmth.  The  at- 
mosphere is  the  worst  of  all  conductors  of  heat. 
Accordingly,  a loosely-made  garment,  which  in 
its  various  folds  incloses  an  abundance  of  air, 


SUMMER  AND  WINTER  CLOTHING.  177 


must  necessarily  be  a greater  obstacle  to  the  es- 
cape of  the  warmth  of  the  body  than  a close-fit- 
ting dress.  The  non-conducting  power  of  wool- 
en and  other  loose  fabrics  is  mainly  owing  to  the 
large  interstices  of  the  tissue  being  filled  with 
air. 

A loose  dress  is,  moreover,  warmer,  because  it 
admits  of  the  free  circulation  of  blood,  while  a 
tight  one  impedes  it  by  constricting  the  vessels, 
and  thus  hindering  that  free  supply  of  the  ele- 
ment essential  to  keeping  up  the  brisk  combus- 
tion upon  which  depends  the  due  heating  of  the 
body. 

Winter  clothing,  then,  to  be  warm,  should  be 
of  thick,  loose  texture,  as  cloth,  flannel,  and  oth- 
er woolen  stuffs,  dark  in  color,  and  of  a cut  so 
flowing  that  it  may  embrace  within  its  folds 
stratum  upon  stratum  of  non-conducting  air,  and 
so  loose  as  not  to  pinch  any  where,  whatever 
may  be  the  motion  of  the  body. 

The  rigid  application  of  the  arbitrary  laws  of 
fashion  to  children’s  dress  is  worse  than  an  ab- 
surdity— it  is  a cruelty.  It  is  obvious  that  the 
very  young  are  entirely  indifferent  to,  if  not 
absolutely  unconscious  of  the  distinctions  of  cos- 
tume, and  that  they  care  nothing  for  the  cut  or 
the  stuff  of  a smock  or  a vest  provided  their 
limbs  and  bodies  are  at  ease,  and  free  to  bend 
M 


178 


HARDENING  CHILDREN. 


and  move.  Mothers  dress  children  to  gratify 
their  own  vanity,  and  are  not  seldom  entirely 
regardless  of  their  little  ones,  whose  health  and 
comfort  they  so  frequently  sacrifice.  The  fash- 
ionable style  of  children’s  costume  is  often  sin- 
gularly inappropriate.  Much  of  it  seems  to  have 
been  devised  in  accordance  with  the  prevalent 
notion  that  children  can  be  hardened,  as  it  is 
called,  or  rendered  insensible,  by  exposure  to  the 
effects  of  weather.  This  is  a vulgar  error,  and  a 
dangerous  one.  Those  who  hold  to  it  will  point 
triumphantly,  in  proof  of  their  opinion,  to  those 
rugged  offspring  of  poverty,  occasionally  seen, 
who,  in  spite  of  their  nakedness,  seem  to  defy 
the  cold  and  the  storm.  These,  however,  are  the 
few  of  the  many  that  disease  has  left  untouched  ; 
they  are  the  hardy  plants  which’ remain  in  the 
wastes  of  misery  un withered  and  undestroyed 
by  the  neglect  and  pestilence  which  have  decay 
ed  and  killed  most  of  those  of  kindred  growdh. 

It  is  a w^ ell-established  fact  that  a much  larger 
number  of  the  children  of  the  poor  and  misera- 
ble suffer  from  disease  and  die  than  of  those  of 
the  rich  and  luxurious.  The  offspring  of  misery 
w^ho  survive  are  mostly  the  fortunate  few  en- 
dowed with  an  inherent  vigor  of  constitution 
which  is  proof  against  the  severest  trials.  None 
but  the  strongest  children  of  poverty  are  left. 


DANGER  CF  EXPOSURE. 


179 


The  weakest  scion  of  wealth  is  often  nurtured 
by  care  to  health  and  long  life.  Luxury  may 
not  always  make  the  most  rational  use  of  its  op- 
portunities  in  the  bringing  up  of  its  fortunate 
offspring,  but  it  has  nothing  to  learn  from  mis^ 
ery  in  the  forced  neglect  of  its  unhappy  proge* 
ny,  except  that  the  health  and  life  of  the  young 
are  only  to  be  preserved  by  the  most  careful 
tending. 

The  surface  of  the  body  can  not,  as  is  often 
supposed,  be  hardened  by  continued  exposure  to 
cold  or  intemperate  weather  of  any  kind.  The 
skin,  Avhen  in  a wholesome  condition,  is  soft  and 
moist,  and,  moreover,  is  being  constantly  renew- 
ed, so  that,  whatever  may  be  the  age  of  the  ani- 
mal, its  integument  is  always  fresh  and  young. 
It  thus  constantly  preserves  its  tenderness  and 
its  sensibility  to  changes  of  temperature  and 
other  impressions.  It  is  true  that  certain  parts 
of  tlie  skin,  as  that  in  the  palm  of  the  hand  of 
the  manual  worker,  does  thicken  and  become 
hard.  This,  however,  is  not  a natural  state  ; and 
if  by  any  process  the  whole  surface  of  the  body 
were  covered  with  a similar  shell  of  callousness, 
its  vitality  would  probably  be  destroyed.  It  is 
necessary  for  the  skin  to  retain  its  porousness 
and  moist  pliability  in  order  to  perform  the 
function  of  transpiration  which  is  essential  to 


180 


CLOAKS  AND  OVERCOATS. 


life.  On  some  festive  occasion  or  other,  in  Paris, 
the  skin  of  a child  Avas  covered  with  gold-leaf, 
and  died,  in  consequence,  a few  hours  after,  with- 
in its  stiff  and  impervious  shroud  of  gilt. 

The  inherent  delicacy  of  the  skin  renders  it 
particularly  sensitive  to  cold  and  drafts  of  air. 
It  therefore  requires  protection.  The  low-neck- 
ed, short,  and  sleeveless  dress,  by  which  fond 
mothers  delight  to  show  off  the  swelling  busts 
and  rounded  limbs  of  their  darlings,  is,  accord- 
ingly, a vanity  which  can  not  be  indulged  in 
with  safety  in  all  latitudes  and  all  seasons.  Dur- 
ing our  severe  winters  there  should  be  no  part 
of  the  surface  of  the  body  of  a child,  with  the 
exception  of  its  face,  exposed  to  the  external 
air.  With,  however,  tlie  fiery  furnaces,  and  the 
more  than  tropical  heat  of  most  of  our  prosper- 
ous interiors,  the  indoor  clothing  may  be  very 
light,  or  almost  nothing,  provided  the  tempera- 
ture be  uniform,  and  all  drafts  and  changes  of 
air  be  avoided.  With  the  prevailing  practice 
of  overheating  our  houses,  there  is  always,  on 
going  out,  a danger  in  facing  the  Avinter’s  breath. 
To  escape  this,  the  greatest  possible  difference 
should  be.  made  betAveen  the  indoor  and  out- 
door clothing.  This  is  obviously  to  be  done 
by  relying  for  warmth  chiefly  upon  the  cloaks 
and  coats,  pelisses,  fur  capes,  and  the  exterior 


BLACK  COATS  AND  HATS. 


181 


garments  which  are  easily  put  on  and  off.  If 
the  under-clothing,  or  that  ordinarily  worn  in- 
side of  the  house,  be  too  heavy,  that  put  on  on 
going  out  is  apt  to  be  too  light  to  protect  the 
body  against  the  difference  of  temperature,  whicu 
is  the  chief  danger  to  be  guarded  against. 

Of  course,  as  air  and  exercise  are  essential  to 
the  health  of  the  young,  they  must  face  the  stern 
winter  of  their  native  land,  but  it  is  a fatal  mis- 
take to  suppose  that  either  nature  or  habit  can 
render  them  insensible  to  its  withering  breath. 
The  only  security  is  in  warm  clothing,  which 
must  not  be  neglected  with  any  absurd  idea  of 
ch  ild-harden  ing. 

It  is  quite  certain  that  some  of  the  ordinances 
of  fashion  are  in  accordance  neither  with  grace, 
convenience,  nor  health,  and  yet  few  will  ven- 
ture to  refuse  compliance  with  them.  What  can 
be  uglier  and  more  painful  to  wear  than  a stiff 
stove-pipe  hat  ? and  yet  there  is  hardly  any  one 
in  London  below  a peer  of  the  realm,  or  above  a 
costermonger’s  man,  who  will  dare  to  show  his 
head  in  the  streets  without  such  a covering. 
The  black  coat  and  white  cravat  de  rigeur  none 
of  us  must  venture  to  dispense  with  on  certain 
occasions,  and  yet  how  ugly  ! They  have,  more- 
over, the  disadvantage  of  confounding  master 
and  man.  The  Paris  Figaro  gives  us  an  illustra- 


182 


MONSIEUR  ROUHER. 


tion  : ‘‘  The  other  clay  a gentleman  in  this  equiv- 
ocal suit  presented  himself,  with  a package  under 
his  arm,  at  the  door  of  the  celebrated  modiste^ 

Madame  W . The  porter,  taking  him  by  the 

cut  of  his  coat  for  one  of  his  own  set,  showed 
him  up  by  the  servants’  staircase.  He  took  the 
way  indicated,  and,  after  handing  to  madame  a 
diamond  head-dress  to  be  altered,  said, ‘My  wife 
being  unable  to  come,  I have  brought  it  myself. 
Pray  do  it  as  soon  as  possible,  and  don’t  disap- 
point her.’  As  he  was  leaving,  he  added,  ‘ I 
must  congratulate  you,  madame,  upon  the  excel- 
lent arrangement  of  your  establishment,’  and  ex- 
plained how  he  had  been  shown  up  by  the  kitch- 
en way.  The  modiste  was  in  a terrible  rage  at 
her  porter,  for  the  servant,  as  he  had  supposed, 
was  no  less  a personage  than  the  great  Monsieur 
Houher,  the  prime  minister  of  imperial  France, 
who  had  undertaken,  when  in  full  dress  for  din- 
ner,  a commission  for  his  wife.” 


EATING  rNOPERLY. 


183 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

Food. — Importance  of  the  Manner  of  eating  Food. — The 

Decency  of  Feeding. — Its  Effect  on  Health  and  Appetite. 

— Chatted  Food. — Dainty  Feeders. 

The  first  essential  is  to  catch  our  hare,  and  the 
second  to  cook  it  well,  but  the  third  is  undoubt- 
edly to  eat  it  properly.  A regard  to  the  kind 
of  food  is  hardly  more  necessary  to  its  enjoy- 
m2nt  and  to  health  than  the  manner  of  eating 
it.  There  is  no  country  in  the  world  where  there 
is  such  an  abundance  of  good  raw  material  for 
the  supply  of  the  dietetic  necessities  of  man,  or 
where  there  are  so  many  people  with  the  means 
of  obtaining  it,  as  in  the  United  States.  It  may 
be  added  that  there  is  hardly  a nation  that 
derives  so  little  enjoyment  and  benefit  as  the 
American  fropi  its  resources.  These,  Avhich  are 
so  plentiful  with  us,  and,  if  properly  used,  calcu- 
lated to  bestow  so  much  pleasure  and  physical 
good,  give  a great  deal  less  of  either  than  the 
meagre  supplies  of  less  productive  countries. 
Our  abundance  of  food,  so  far  from  being  a ben- 
efit, is  made,  by  perverse  use,  an  injury.  We 
have  so  much  that  we  undervalue  it,  and  deem 


184 


VARIETY  OF  FOOD, 


it  unworthy  of  the  care  which  is  necessary  in  its 
preparation  for  wholesome  nutriment.  We  thus 
confine  ourselves  mostly  to  the  grosser  articles 
of  diet,  or  such  as  are  ordinarily  called  plain 
food,  and  which  require  but  little  art  to  adapt 
them  to  the  taste. 

We  are  entirely  too  carnivorous  in  this  coun- 
try. We  feed  too  exclusively  on  steaks  of  beef, 
chops  of  mutton,  cutlets  of  veal,  and  joints  of 
meat.  All  our  dishes  being  what  the  French  call 
pieces  of  resistance,  the  national  stomach  is  kept 
in  a constant  state  of  active  assault.  This  over- 
strains its  energy,  and  produces  that  malady  so 
common  with  us  which  the  doctors  call  atonic 
dyspepsia ; that  is,  the  indigestion  which  arisegs 
from  weakness  in  consequence  of  overwork. 

The  physiologists  tell  us  that  the  human  sys- 
tem requires  for  its  proper  nutrition  a variet}^ 
of  food.  There  must  be  a due  proportion  of 
oily,  albuminous,  and  saccharine  matter  to  ren- 
der the  diet  of  man  wholesome,  l^either  bread, 
meat,  nor  sugar,  however  necessary  as  a j)art  of 
the  whole,  is  sufficient  alone  to  sustain  the  health 
and  vigor  of  man.  There  must  be  a proper  quan- 
tity of  each  in  every  daily  meal.  The  experience 
of  good  livers,  with  their  regular  succession  of 
courses  of  soup,  fish,  meat,  vegetables,  and  des- 
sert, has  long  since  settled  this  matter  of  va* 


SOUP  AND  SWEETS. 


185 


riety  of  food  to  their  own  satisfaction,  and  in  ac- 
cordance Avith  the  teachings  of  science.  Our 
country  friends  are  apt  to  scorn  all  lessons  from 
such  a quarter,  but  Ave  assure  them  tliat  in  re- 
gard to  their  manner  of  eating  they  may  follow 
the  example  of  the  fashionable  with  advantage. 
We  know  of  nothing  more  dangerous  to  health 
than  the  higgledy-piggledy  tables  of  our  country 
cousins,  AAdiere  flesh,  fowl,  flsh,  and  all  the  prO' 
auctions  of  the  earth  are  mingled  together  in  a 
confusion  that  peqDlexes  the  taste,  and  prevents 
all  discrimination  of  choice.  To  eat  such  meals 
requires  the  A^oracity  Avhich  rustic  labor  can 
alone  give,  and  to  digest  them  demands  such  a 
stomach  as  nature  refuses  to  man,  but  grants,  it 
is  said,  to  the  ostrich. 

It  is  always  Avell  to  begin  the  dinner  as  eA^ery 
Frenchman  does — Avith  soup.  This  quiets  the 
excessive  craving  of  the  stomach,  but  does  not 
completely  satisfy  the  hunger ; and  by  thus  sub- 
duing its  A^oracity,  prevents  it  from  inordinate 
indulgence  in  food  that  is  less  easy  of  digestion. 
So  also  is  there  a good  reason  Avhy  the  sweet 
things  should  be  eaten  at  the  close  of  the  dinner. 
All  saccharine  food  has  the  effect  of  quickly  sa- 
tiating, and,  if  taken  at  the  commencement  of  a 
meal,  Avould  satisfy  the  appetite  so  completely  as 
to  indispose  it  for  the  other  more  substantial 


186 


THE  BAR  AND  TROUGH. 


articles  of  diet  necessary  to  the  proper  nourish* 
ment  of  the  body. 

Human  beings  were  never  intended  to  be  the 
mere  guzzlei-s  of  food  that  they  too  often  are. 
Though  our  animal  appetites  are  a possession 
that  we  have  in  common  with  brutes,  we  are 
able,  but  they  are  not,  to  temper  their  grossness 
with  the  rehnements  of  art. 

This  power,  which  is  a distinguishing  feature 
of  man,  is  less  often  exercised  than  it  should  be, 
and  we  consequently  find  the  human  animal  eat- 
ing and  drinking  in  a manner  w hich  gives  indi- 
cation only  of  the  brutal  instinct.  There  is 
nothing  more  suggestive  of  a piggery  at  swill- 
time than  an  ordinary  “ bar-room  and  restau- 
rant” at  the  hours  of  luncheon.  In  w^hat  is  swal- 
lowed on  these  occasions  the  human  exercises 
no  more  discrimination  than  the  porcine  animal. 
As  the  former,  with  his  head  and  elbow^s  over 
the  slushy  bar,  gulps  dowm  the  “ slings  and  cob- 
blers,” and  other  mysterious  comi30unds  of  mis- 
cellaneous mixture,  or  bolts  the  indefinite  oyster 
ste^vs  and  clam  chow^ders,  how  like  he  is  to  the 
latter,  wuth  his  nose  and  fore  feet  in  the  overflow- 
ing trough  of  swdll  ! 

The  combination  on  each  plate  of  the  numer- 
ous items  of  the  hotel  or  boarding-house  bill  of 
fare,  which  passes  daily  the  unquestioning  sw^ah 


DECENCY  OF  FEEDING. 


187 


low  of  American  voracity,  is  a prodigious  test 
of  the  powers  of  digestion.  The  result  can  not 
be  otherwise  than  derangement  of  the  functions 
of  the  stomach,  disease  of  that  organ,  and  conse- 
quent weakness  of  the  whole  body. 

A due  attention  to  the  grace  and  decency  of 
feeding  is  often  the  surest  means  of  provoking 
the  taste  of  the  nice.  A well-presented  meal 
will  entice  the  languid  appetite  when  the  same 
food  ill  served  will  repel  all  desire.  This  is  a 
fact  to  be  considered  in  the  treatment  of  the 
sick,  when  weakness  and  delicacy  make  them  es- 
pecially fastidious.  Those  who  have  had  any 
experience  in  their  management  know  how  great 
is  the  effect  of  a minute  attention  to  the  manner 
in  which  food  or  medicine  is  presented  to  them. 
The  dose  seems  to  lose  much  of  its  nauseousness 
when  swallowed  from  the  well- polished  silver 
spoon,  and  the  morsel  of  food  neatly  cut  and  or- 
derly presented  acquires  a finer  flavor.  The 
connoisseur  of  wine  would  fail  to  catch  the  va^ue 

o 

bouquet  of  the  rarest  sherry  and  finest  Cham- 
pagne if  he  drank  them  out  of  an  earthen  pot 
instead  of  the  delicately  blown  glass. 

In  regard  to  eating,  parsimony  is  by  no  means 
the  best  economy  of  time.  There  may  be  an  im- 
mediate gain  in  hurrying  through  the  daily  re- 
past, but  the  future  loss,  from  ill  health  and  pre- 


188 


CHATTKD  FOOD. 


mature  death,  will  be  far  greater.  It  is  particu* 
larly  necessary  to  lengthen  the  American  dinner, 
and  we  know  of  no  better  means  of  doing  this 
than  by  dividing  it  into  courses,  and  interposing 
between  them  cheerful  interludes  of  social  talk. 
A full  hour  at  least  should  be  spared  from  the 
busiest  day  for  the  main  repast.  It  should  never 
be  slurred  over  by  any  of  the  miserable  pretexts 
of  the  bar-room,  eating-house,  or  confectionery, 
but  treated  with  all  the  substantial  considera- 
tion its  importance  demands.  Let  each  one 
make  the  most  of  his  dinner,  whatever  it  may 
be.  Let  it  be  prolonged,  and  freed  from  gross- 
ness by  a graceful  ceremony ; and,  above  all,  let 
it  be  partaken  of  in  company,  for  nothing  is  so 
depressing  to  mind  and  body  as  solitary  feeding. 

“A  man’s  body  and  his  mind  are  like  a jerkin 
and  a jerkin’s  lining : rumple  the  one,  you  rum- 
ple the  other.”  The  physiological  fact,  thus  apt- 
ly and  humorously  illustrated  by  Sterne,  is  no- 
where more  apparent  than  in  the  mutual  influ- 
ence of  digestion  and  mental  emotion.  Both  the 
brain  and  stomach  must  be  at  ease  for  either  to 
perform  its  functions  properly.  Cheerfulness  of 
ixiind  is  as  essential  to  a good  digestion  as  a good 
digestion  is  essential  to  cheerfulness  of  mind. 

The  sudden  announcement  of  bad  news,  or  the 
occurrence  of  any  thing  to  disquiet  the  mind, 


SOCIAL  EATING. 


189 


will  not  only  arrest  the  hunger  of  the  sharpest 
appetite  for  the  choicest  food,  hut  produce  a loath- 
ing of  it.  To  eat,  if  it  were  possible,  in  such  a 
state  of  mental  discomfort,  would  be  sure  to  re- 
sult in  a fit  of  indigestion,  if  not  in  something 
more  serious. 

When  the  stomach  is  satisfying  its  appetite, 
the  mind  should  not  only  be  free  from  any  pain- 
ful emotion,  but  in  a state  of  gentle  and  cheer- 
ful excitement.  “ Chatted  food,”  according  to 
the  old  proverb,  is  half  digested.”  This  sug- 
gests the  advantage  of  social  eating,  than  which 
nothing  is  more  conducive  to  the  enjoyment  as 
well  as  the  digestion  of  food.  With  the  socia- 
bility of  a mixed  dinner  company  there  comes 
just  the  degree  of  mental  liveliness  required. 
The  mind  is  distracted  from  its  own  preoccupa- 
tions by  the  common  talk  to  which  each  one  con- 
tributes, without  making  an  exhaustive  draught 
upon  his  resources.  Thus  there  is  general  ani- 
mation without  any  individual  fatigue.  The 
Avhole  nervous  system  is,  by  this  agreeable 
means,  stirred  to  a gentle  excitement,  which  is 
favorable  to  the  performance  of  every  bodily 
function,  and  especially  to  that  of  digestion. 

Believing  that  sociability  is  an  essential  ele- 
ment of  not  only  the  enjoyable,  but  digestible 
dinner,  we  protest  emphatically  against  solitary 


190 


STAEVING  WOMEN. 


feeding,  which  is  both  a gross  and  unwholesome 
practice.  It  is,  however,  very  general  among 
our  men  of  business.  These  have  the  habit  of 
eating  while  they  work.  Although  they  drop 
the  pen  in  assuming  the  knife  and  fork,  their 
brains  remain  busy  with  their  debit  and  credit 
calculations,  without,  however,  taking  into  ac- 
count what  is  due  to  health.  They  rush  in  the 
anxious  interval  between  an  offer  and  a sale  or 
purchase  to  the  trough  of  some  neighboring 
bar-room.  Here  they  fill  their  stomachs  in  the 
shortest  time  with  the  largest  quantity  of  sludge 
— for  the  confused  mess  of  stew,  chowder,  pie- 
crust, and  other  miscellaneous  grub  hardly  de- 
serves any  other  name — and  hasten  back  to  pro- 
nounce the  last  ’word  of  a bargain,  wdiich  they 
have  been  ruminating  while  bolting  their  din- 
ner. The  bargain  may  turn  out  a good  opera- 
tion, but  the  dinner  will  be  sure  to  be  a losing, 
and,  if  often  repeated,  a fatal  one. 

Many  of  our  over-refined  dames  seem  to  have 
adopted  Lord  Byron’s  notion,  that  eating  is  un- 
becoming to  ’vroman.  It  is  a marvel  how  some 
of  them  manage  to  keep  body  and  soul  together 
with  the  apparent  regimen  of  starvation  to  which 
they  subject  themselves.  To  see  them  at  table, 
you  ’svould  hardly  think  them  capable  of  the  sol- 
itary pea  to  which  Beau  Brummell  confessed. 


HAS  WOMAN  A STOMACH  ? 191 

‘‘Do  you  eat  vegetables?”  he  was  asked.  “I 
once  ate  a pea,”  was  his  answer.  Our  delicate 
darnes  appear  to  have  reduced  themselves  to  the 
fabulous  abstemiousness  of  the  single  blade  of 
grass  to  which  the  old  woman  had  gradually 
brought  her  cow. 

At  the  regular  repasts  of  the  day  the  would- 
be  genteel  woman  never  seems  to  be  hungr3\ 
She  takes  her  place  at  the  table  apparently  only 
as  a matter  of  form,  and  handles  her  knife  and 
fork  with  the  same  lackadaisical  air  of  indiffer* 
ence  as  she  would  her  painted  fan  at  the  Opera. 
She  may  possibly  sip  a spoonful  of  soup,  or  swal- 
low an  occasional  crumb  of  bread,  to  pass  the 
time ; but  of  the  substantials  of  beef  and  pud- 
ding she  does  not  take  enough  to  “ choke  a claw 
withal.”  Breakfast,  dinner,  and  tea  are  no  bet- 
ter than  so  many  Barmecide  feasts  as  far  as  she 
is  concerned,  and  she  might  as  well,  for  all  she 
apparently  eats,  take  her  seat  at  the  illusive 
board  of  Sancho  Panza  in  Barataria. 

It  is  hardly  the  genteel  thing,  perhaps,  but  we 
shall  nevertheless  venture  to  say  to  our  lady 
friends,  as  Petruchio  said  to  Katharine,  “I  know 
you  have  a stomach.”  Granting  the  fact  of  the 
possession  of  this  important  organ  by  women, 
w^e  do  not  see  why  the  genteelest  of  them  should 
be  ashamed  of  acknowledging  it,  and  frankly  do- 


192 


KOBLE  FEEDEKS. 


ing  what  may  be  necessary  to  secure  it  in  all  its 
integrity.  There  is  only  one  way  of  doing  this, 
and  that  is  filling  the  stomach  at  regular  periods 
with  plenty  of  wholesome  food. 

In  former  times  the  most  distinguished  and  re' 
fined  of  w^ornen  were  hearty  feeders,  and,  with- 
out any  of  the  sneaking  delicacy  of  modern  days, 
made  no  scruples  of  handling  a vigorous  knife 
and  fork  before  the  w^hole  world.  Queen  Eliza- 
beth and  her  maids  breakfasted  on  great  rounds 
of  beef,  washed  down  with  full  tankards  of  strong 
beer.  “ My  lord  and  lady,”  records  an  observer 
of  the  habits  of  the  Earl  of  Northumberland  and 
his  countess,  have  for  breakfast  at  seven  o’clock 
a quart  of  beer,  as  much  wdne,  two  pieces  of  salt 
fish,  six  red  herrings,  four  white  ones,  and  a dish 
of  sprats.”  The  Duchess  of  Orleans,  the  mother 
of  the  famous  regent,  while  in  the  full  enjoy- 
ment of  the  luxury  of  Versailles,  in  the  time  of 
Louis  XI V,  wrote  : “ A good  dish  of  sour-krout 
and  smoked  sausages  is,  in  my  opinion,  worthy 
of  a king,  and  there  is  nothing  preferable  to  it ; 
a soup  made  of  cabbage  and  bacon  is  more  to 
my  taste  than  all  the  delicate  kickshaw.s  they 
make  so  much  of  here.”  It  is  not  astonishing 
that  there  were  strong  women  in  those  days, 
such  as  the  stout  wife  of  a Duke  Ernest  of  Aus- 
tria, Avho  could  crack  the  hardest  nut  with  her 


GLUT  OF  BON-BONS. 


193 


fingers,  and  drive  a tenpenny  nail  home  with  her 
fist.  And  the  Duchess  of  Orleans  was  wont  to 
follow  the  hounds  from  morning  until  night,  had 
been  in  at  the  death  of  more  than  a thousand 
stags,  and  had  many  a serious  fall.  “ But,”  she 
says,  “ of  the  twenty- six  falls  from  my  horse 
that  I have  had,  I have  been  seriously  injured 
but  once.”  Such  was  the  toughness  engender- 
ed by  sour-krout,  smoked  sausage,  and  cabbage- 
soup  ! 

There  is  very  little  doubt  that  much  of  the  de 
bility  and  disease  so  common  among  the  women 
of  our  day  is  due  to  this  genteel  squeamishness 
in  regard  to  substantial  food.  It  is  not  that 
they  absolutely  starve  themselves  to  death,  for 
many  of  the  most  abstemious  at  the  open  din- 
ner are  the  most  voracious  at  the  secret  lunch- 
eon. Thus  that  fastidious  dame,  whose  gorge 
rises  before  company  at  the  sight  of  a single 
pea,  will  on  the  sly  swallow  cream  tarts  by 
the  dozen,  and  caramels  and  chocolate-drops  by 
the  pound’s  w^eight.  Women  should  know  that 
liealth  is  not  possible  with  a daily  glut  of  bom 
bons  and  pastry,  but  that  physiology  teaches, 
and  experience  confirms,  the  necessity  of  a vari- 
ous and  substantial  diet,  such  as  is  supplied  at 
the  three  regular  meals  of  a well-ordered  house- 
hold. Let  our  dames  get  over  their  false  shame 
N 


194 


DAINTY  FEEDERS. 


of  a vigorous  use  of  the  social  knife  and  fork,  and 
learn  that  in  rejecting  publicly  beef  and  pudding, 
aiid  devouring  confectionery  privately,  they  ars, 
in  reality  gross,  and  not  dainty  feederSo 


ETIQUETTE  OF  BREAKFAST. 


195 


CHAPTER  XV. 

Etiquette  of  the  Breakfast. — Etiquette  of  the  Luncheon.— 
Etiquette  of  the  Dinner. 

Breakfast — we  mean  the  genuine  breakfast, 
not  the  dejeil7ier  d la  fourchette^  or  luncheon — is 
the  least  ceremonious  of  meals.  By  common 
consent,  many  of  the  usual  table  formalities  are 
dispensed  with  on  this  occasion.  Though,  in  a 
well-regulated  famil}^,  for  the  sake  of  inculcating 
order  and  punctuality,  the  attendance  of  each 
member  may  be  required  at  a fixed  hour,  there 
is  generally  a wide  discretion  left  to  every  one 
else  in  regard  to  the  time  of  his  sitting  down  to 
breakfast. 

At  this  informal  repast  each  person  is  left  free, 
within  certain  limits,  to  consult  exclusively  his 
own  convenience.  In  the  great  country  houses 
of  Europe,  where  a very  ceremonious  hospitality 
is  kept  up,  the  breakfast  is  deemed  so  far  an  ex- 
ception to  the  general  law  of  strict  observance 
that  it  is  served  to  the  guests,  as  it  might  be  to 
so  many  travelers  at  an  inn,  at  any  hour  of  the 
morning,  in  the  dining-hall,  or  even  in  their  own 


rooms. 


196 


A BREAKFAST  TABLE. 


It  is  not  expected  that  there  should  be  a gath- 
ering in  tlie  drawing-room  or  elsewhere  of  tlie 
whole  party,  and  a simultaneous  movement  to 
the  breakfast-table.  The  Avell-marshaled  pro- 
cession usual  at  dinner  may  be  and  is  generally 
dispensed  with.  The  distinctions  of  rank  and 
age  are  not  recognized,  and  the  laughing  child 
may  take  i3recedence  of  the  gravest  dignitary. 
Each  one,  in  fact,  is  allowed  to  drop  in  when  and 
how  he  may.  The  presence  of  even  the  host  and 
hostess  is  not  exacted,  although,  where  the)-e  is 
a household  of  children  requiring  the  discipline 
of  order  and  punctuality,  no  parent  should  fail 
to  set  the  example  of  regular  observance  of  the 
hour  of  breakfast,  as  of  every  other  meal. 

The  breakfast-table  should  be,  in  accordance 
with  the  unceremoniousness  of  the  repast,  very 
simply  dressed.  The  damask  table-cloth  and 
napkins,  the  service  of  white  china,  the  shining 
urn  or  kettle,  the  pat  of  butter  with  its  crystal 
of  ice,  the  crisp  loaf,  and  the  glistening  vessels 
of  glass  symmetrically  arranged,  have  in  them- 
selves a freshness  very  enticing  to  a morning  ap- 
petite. The  oval  table  is  both  more  pleasing  to 
the  eye  and  convenient  for  use.  The  centre 
should  always  be  adorned  with  flowers  if  they 
can  be  obtained,  or  by  fruit  when  in  season. 
The  dame  of  the  house  takes  her  place  at  the 


FINGERS  IN  THE  SGGAR-BOWL. 


197 


head  or  the  side  of  the  table,  and  before  her  she 
has  the  tray  with  the  various  vessels  for  prepar- 
ing the  usual  domestic  beverages — tea  and  cof- 
fee. These,  to  be  good,  should  be  made  u])  stairs 
just  before  they  are  served.  The  old-fashioned 
urn,  which  was  a huge,  ugly,  funereal  thing,  dark- 
ening the  whole  table  with  its  solemn  bulk,  and 
eclipsing  the  blooming  face  of  the  matron,  has 
given  way,  fortunately,  to  a more  graceful  tea- 
kettle of  bronze.  This  should  be  placed  on  the 
table  in  front  or  at  the  side  of  the  tray,  and  may 
be  kept  boiling  during  the  whole  meal  by  means 
of  its  alcoholic  lamp.  The  hot  water  should  be 
freely  used,  not  so  much  to  temper  the  tea  and 
coffee  as  to  rinse  out  the  cups.  The  slop-bow! 
is,  moreover,  a necessary  vessel,  which,  however, 
is  too  often  wanting.  Fastidious  people  don’t 
care  to  see  iha  jetsd7is  flotsams  of  their  first 
cups  floating  in  their  second.  We  need  hardly 
say  that  Dr.  Johnson’s  mode  of  helping  the  sugar 
is  not  recognized  by  nice  people  as  the  proper 
one,  any  more  than  it  was  by  Mrs.  Thrale,  who, 
as  we  recollect,  ordered  the  bowl  to  be  taken 
away  after  the  learned  lexicographer  had  dipped 
his  inky  fingers  into  it.  The  old  fellow",  it  is 
true,  took  this  lesson  of  cleanliness  very  ungrate- 
fully, and  threw",  with  a demonstrative  but  illog- 
ical spite,  one  of  Mrs.  Thrale’s  best  china  cups 


198  CUTTING  AND  BREAKING  BREAD. 

into  the  fire,  saying  that  if  the  one  vessel  was 
unfit  for  use  after  his  fingers  had  been  in  it,  the 
other,  once  touched  by  his  lips,  was  equally  so. 
In  France,  where  they  are  not  always  as  reserved 
in  the  use  of  their  hands  as  they  might  be,  the 
dames  not  seldom  tlirust  them  into  the  sugar- 
basins.  This  French  fashion  we  can  not  recoim 
mend  for  adoption  into  this  country. 

It  is  not  customary  for  fastidious  people  to  ac- 
cept of  more  than  two  cups  of  tea  or  coffee ; but 
we  do  not  know  Avhy  good  breeding,  though 
moderation  and  temperance  in  all  things  is  one 
of  its  cardinal  principles,  should  confine  itself 
precisely  to  that  number.  Dr.  Johnson  used  to 
take  a score  or  more  at  a single  sitting.  It  has 
always  been  recognized  as  a symbol — the  origin 
of  which  we  do  not  pretend  to  know — of  having 
had  enough  when  the  drinker  leaves  his  spoon  in 
the  tea  or  coffee  cup^  and  of  his  wanting  more 
when  it  is  left  in  the  saucer.  We  would  advise, 
however,  our  hospitable  dames  not  to  rely  too 
much  upon  such  indications.  It  is  a conven- 
ience, and  is,  moreover,  the  fashion,  first  set,  it  is 
said,  by  no  less  a personage  than  Queen  Victo- 
ria, to  place  the  whole  loaf  of  bread  on  the  table, 
with  a large  knife  by  its  side ; and  this,  we  may 
say,  is  the  only  occasion  when  this  instrument 
should  be  used.  The  bread  with  which  each  one 


SOLID  BREAKFASTS. 


199 


IS  served  ought  always  to  be  broken,  and  never 
cut. 

The  breakfast  to  suit  a morning  appetite, 
which,  though  in  a healtliy  person  always  brisk, 
is  somewhat  unsophisticated,  should  be  conr 
posed  of  light  and  easily-digestible  food.  Notlp 
ing  is  more  suitable,  therefore,  than  a farinacc' 
ous  diet.  Bread,  of  course,  in  its  various  forms, 
must  constitute  the  staple ; but,  in  addition  to 
these,  the  usual  preparations  of  hominy  and 
buckwheat  are  excellent  breakfast  articles.  But- 
ter and  molasses  with  such  food — the  free  use 
of  which  it  is  not  uncommon  to  prohibit  to  chil- 
dren— fulfill,  according  to  chemistry,  an  essential 
part  in  the  economy  of  digestion  and  nutrition. 
Milk  should  always  constitute  a large  proportion 
of  the  morning  meal,  not  only  of  children,  but  of 
adults.  Much  of  the  vigor  of  muscle  and  brain 
of  the  Scotch  has  been  attributed  to  their  free 
use  of  oatmeal  porridge  and  pease  brose  mixed 
with  milk. 

We  are  no  great  advocates  for  a solid  meat 
diet  at  the  first  meal  of  the  day.  In  frosty 
weather,  a rasher  of  bacon,  a sausage  or  two 
conscientiously  made,  some  whitefish,  or  a slice 
of  cold  meat,  may  be  well,  but  the  hot  steaks 
and  chops  had  better  be  postponed  for  the  more 
deliberate  repasts.  When  cold  meats,  game. 


200 


COSTUME  AT  BREAKFAST. 


and  meat  pies,  the  remnants  of  a previous  feast, 
form  part  of  the  breakfast,  it  is  considered  good 
taste  to  banish  them  to  the  sideboard.  The 
hacked  joint  or  the  ragged  pastry  of  the  day 
before  would  certainly  not  harmonize  with  the 
delicate  freshness  and  neatness  of  a well-set 
breakfast-table.  Eggs  and  fruit  in  their  seasons 
are  always  proper.  In  fact,  the  latter  is  more 
suitable  food  in  the  earlier  than  in  the  latter  part 
of  the  day.  The  old  proverb  says,  “ Fruit  is  gold 
in  the  morning,  silver  at  noon,  and  lead  at  night.” 

It  is  always  considered  good  breeding  to  get 
through  the  breakfast  with  as  little  formality  of 
service  as  possible.  The  well  bred  on  such  oc- 
casions, whatever  force  they  may  have  of  flunk- 
ies, dispense  as  far  as  possible  with  their  pres- 
ence, and  content  themselves  with  a neatly-at- 
tired and  unobtrusive  maid  or  a retiring  valet, 
who  knows  when  to  make  a timely  exit. 

The  simplest  costume  is  always  regarded  as 
the  most  becoming  at  breakfast.  The  matron 
should  make  her  appearance  in  white  cap  and 
early-morning  indoor  dress;  and  the  master  of 
the  house  may  present  himself  almost  as  he  will, 
even  in  a shooting-jacket,  but  never  in  morning 
wrapper  or  slippers.  These  are  too  suggestive 
of  the  sick-chamber.  We  incontinently  put  our 
fingers  to  our  noses  when  we  see  them. 


LUNCHEON. 


201 


The  luncheon,  which  the  etyuiologists  would 
persuade  us  is  derived  from  dutch  or  clunc\  and 
should  be  consequently  spelled  dutcheou  or  dun- 
dieon^  meaning  simply  a handful  of  food,  has  lost 
much  of  its  primitive  signification.  The  modern 
luncheon  is  no  longer  regarded  by  those  who 
know  how  to  live  as  a mere  sop  to  be  thrown  to 
that  hungry  Cerberus  of  the  stomach,  the  appe- 
tite, with  the  view  of  quieting  only  for  a moment 
its  grow  lings,  but  a deliberate,  satisfying  meal. 

The  modern  luncheon  of  our  people  is  the  de- 
jeilncr  d la  fourchette — the  breakfast  with  a fork 
— of  the  French. 

“ What  a breakfast ! Oh,  not  like  your  ghost 

Of  a breakfast  in  England,  your  curs’d  tea  and  toast !” 

Under  the  old  name  of  luncheon  most  thriv- 
ing and  well-regulated  fiimilies  daily  sit  down  to 
the  Frenchman’s  dejeuner  d la  fourchette.  When 
the  first  breakfast,  which  we  suppose  and  recom- 
mend to  be  a light,  farinaceous  one  of  bread  or 
hominy,  with  milk,  tea,  or  coffee,  has  been  taken 
at  eight  in  the  morning,  the  more  substantial 
second  or  luncheon  should  be  eaten  about  four 
hours  or  so  afterward— say  at  twelve  or  half 
past  twelve  o’clock.  The  interval,  however,  be- 
tween two  solid  meals  can  be  prolonged  to  six 
hours. 

It  is  customary  to  make  the  luncheon  serve 


202 


A REHASH  LUNCHEON. 


the  double  purpose  of  a second  breakfast  for  the 
grown-up  members  of  the  family,  and  an  early 
dinner  for  the  children  and  servants.  It  is  es- 
sential  that  the  young  should  eat  their  main  re- 
past early  in  the  day,  for,  if  it  were  postponed 
until  its  close,  they  would  be  constantly  exposed 
to  the  danger  of  going  to  sleep  with  a full  stom- 
ach. The  attempt  to  keep  a child  awake  beyond 
his  natural  hour  for  repose  is  seldom  i3racticable, 
and  always  cruel.  At  the  same  time,  if  by  any 
mischance  or  bad  management  he  is  gorged  with 
food  at  a late  hour,  it  is  hardly  safe  to  put  him 
to  bed.  There  is  no  more  frequent  cause  of  the 
serious  and  sudden  ailments  of  children  than 
yielding  to  the  somnolency  of  satiety. 

Thrifty  housekeepers  often  make  the  luncheon 
out  of  the  remains  of  the  previous  day’s  dinner. 
This,  however,  can  be  carried  too  far,  for  it  must 
be  borne  in  mind  that  no  rechauffe  or  rehash  has 
the  nutritious  qualities  of  a fresh  dish.  Grow- 
ing children  should  not  be  restricted  to  vapid 
remnants,  but  occasionally,  at  least,  be  regaled 
with  newly-cooked  and  juicy  meat.  The  lunch- 
eon is  apt  to  be  made  of  a disproportionate  quan- 
tity of  dessert  and  sweets.  These  are  often  used 
by  well-meaning  thrift  to  piece  out  the  natural 
scantiness  of  a meal  composed  of  the  leavings  of 
the  day  before.  Plain  puddings  and  pastry. 


FASHIONABLE  BREAKFAST. 


203 


when  kept  in  proper  subordination  to  the  more 
nutritious  diet  of  meat  and  vegetables,  will  in- 
jure no  one,  man  or  child,  but  they  are  superflu- 
ities, and  should  never  be  allowed  to  take  the 
place  of  necessaries. 

Of  late  years  the  luncheon,  or  dejellner  d la 
fourchette^  has  been  dignified  by  its  formal  rec- 
ognition by  society  as  a ceremonious  repast. 
Our  men  of  business  are  too  sparing  of  their  time 
to  give  an  liour  pledged  to  trade  to  the  delights 
of  a social  breakfast.  They  accordingly  content 
themselves  with  “ slings”  and  “ chowder,”  which 
can  be  gulped  down  in  a breath,  without  the  loss 
of  a rise  or  fall  of  a Wall  Street  fraction.  The 
formal  breakfast  or  lunch  is  more  especially  the 
feast  of  literary  men,  fashionable  women,  and 
other  idlers.  At  their  “ receptions”  our  dames 
generally  serve  up  chocolate  and  cakes.  Tea, 
and  bouillon  in  cups,  which  is  simply  beef  broth, 
are  also  occasionally  proffered  to  the  most  inti- 
mate friends.  We  are  sorry  to  learn  that  the 
wine  and  liqueur  decanters  are  beginning  to  cir- 
culate with  unusual  freedom  at  these  gatherings 
of  the  gentler  sex,  though  unprovoked  to  indul- 
gence by  the  example  of  the  grosser  instincts  of 
man. 

There  is  much  less  formality  in  the  serving  of 
a lunch  than  a dinner.  It  is  seldom  in  this  conn- 


204  DRESS  FOR  WEDDING  BREAKFASTS. 


try,  though  generally  in  France,  composed  of  sev- 
eral courses.  The  Avhole  repast,  whatever  it  may 
be,  is  set  before  the  guest  at  the  same  time. 
When  one  or  two  only  are  to  partake  of  the 
meal,  a tray  is  served ; but  when  more,  the  whole 
table  is  spread,  but  every  thing  to  be  eaten  ordi- 
narily appears  upon  it. 

The  wedding,  or  formal  official  breakfast,  is  a 
stereotyped  affair,  cast  in  the  moulds  of  the  con- 
fectioner and  restaurateur.  It  is  little  else  than 
the  fashionable  ball  supper,  lighted  up  by  day 
instead  of  gas  light,  and  is  composed,  like  it,  of 
stewed  oysters,  galantines,  mayonnaise  of  fowl, 
cold  game,  ices,  pyramids,  and  all  the  knickknack- 
eries  of  confectionery. 

The  proper  costume  at  wedding  and  formal 
breakfasts,  as  at  all  festivals  before  dinner,  is  a 
morning  dress.  The  gentlemen  should  wear 
frock-coats,  and  light  vests  and  trowsers,  and 
the  dames  their  usual  morning  visiting  drapery. 
The  male  visitor  ordinarily  enters  the  drawing- 
room with  his  hat  in  his  hand,  and  the  female 
will  always,  unless  very  intimate,  present  her- 
self with  her  bonnet  on  her  head.  The  guests 
take  their  places  with  all  the  ceremony  of  a for- 
mal banquet.  The  bride  and  bridegroom  always 
have  the  precedence  in  the  procession  to  the  re- 
freshment-room, and  others  take  their  position 


IMPORTANCE  OF  DINNERS. 


205 


according  to  rank  and  age.  The  cavalier,  in  es- 
corting his  dame,  should  always  give  her  his 
right  arm. 

The  origin  of  dinner-eating  is  coeval  with  the 
creation  of  man.  Dinner-giving,  however,  is  the 
later  product  of  advanced  civilization.  It  may 
be  received  as  an  axiom  that  the  social  progress 
of  a community  is  in  direct  proportion  to  the 
number  of  its  dinner-parties.  London,  Paris,Vi- 
enna,  Berlin,  and  other  centres  of  refinement  re- 
tain their  pre-eminence  by  virtue  solely  of  their 
daily  banquets.  Abolish  these,  and  you  extin- 
guish the  friendly  relationship  of  nations,  the  in- 
timate intercourse  of  the  cultivated  and  refined, 
render  “ the  feast  of  reason  and  the  flow  of  soul'’ 
impossible,  and  arrest  the  progress  of  society. 
It  is  unquestionable  that  more  enduring  alli- 
ances have  been  struck  by  diplomatists  across 
the  mahogany  than  were  ever  agreed  upon  in 
ministerial  cabinets.  Talleyrand  regarded  the 
dinner-table  the  best  place  for  the  transaction 
of  business ; and  while  he  himself  Avas  planted 
there,  he  could  safely  leave  the  rest  to  his  sub- 
ordinates and  scribes  in  the  office.  The  choice 
and  costly  dinners  of  Cambaceres  were  ungrudg- 
ingly  paid  for  by  his  master  ^^apoleon,  for  he  re- 
garded and  encouraged  them  as  poAverful  en- 
gines of  state.  Who  can  doubt  that  much  of 


206 


NUI^IBER  OF  GUESTS. 


the  culture  of  the  world,  with  all  its  elements  of 
refined  manners,  intellectual  converse,  and  taste 
for  science,  literature,  and  the  arts,  is  largely  de- 
pendent upon  the  social  gatherings  at  the  din- 
ner-tables of  the  metropolitan  cities  ? Trace  tlie 
careers  of  any  of  the  notable  men  of  the  world, 
and  mark  how  often  their  genius  is  seen  to 
sparkle  at  the  convivial  board.  How  much  we 
should  lose,  for  example,  of  Johnson,  Garrick, 
Reynolds,  Sheridan,  Sydney  Smith,  or  Theodore 
Hook,  if  deprived  of  their  company  at  dinner ! 
The  general  tone  of  science,  literature,  the  fine 
arts,  and  taste,  is  unquestionably  sustained  by 
metropolitan  social  intercourse.  If  dinner-giv- 
ing in  its  capitals  were  abolished,  all  Europe,  we 
believe,  would  relajise  into  barbarism.  In  seek- 
ing for  evidences  of  American  progress  in  re- 
finement, we  should  count  the  number  of  daily 
dinner-parties,  on  the  great  increase  of  which  of 
late  there  is  reason  to  congratulate  not  only  all 
lovers  of  good  cheer,  but  friends  of  their  coun- 
try. 

The  number  of  persons  at  a dinner-party,  ac- 
cording to  an  old  saying,  should  never  be  “ more 
than  the  Muses  [nine],  or  less  than  the  Graces” 
[three].  Brillat  Savarin  says : “Let  not  the  num- 
ber of  the  company  exceed  twelve.”  He,  like 
all  his  countrymen,  stops  suddenly  short  of  the 


now  TO  Clioosn  GUESTS. 


207 


thirteen — an  ominous  number  in  the  supersti- 
tious fancy  of  the  French.  Having  the  belief 
that  this  number  will  be  sure  to  be  fatal  within 
the  year  to  some  one  of  the  company,  it  is  im- 
possible to  persuade  thirteen  to  sit  down  to- 
gether at  dinner.  The  host,  even,  or  some  ac- 
commodating guest,  whatever  may  be  the  occa- 
sion, will  be  sure  to  subtract  himself  from  that 
odd  and  inauspicious  sum,  should  it  be  unfortu- 
nately cast  up  at  a convivial  entertainment.* 

It  is  too  much  the  practice,  particularly  in  this 
country,  to  invite  people  of  the  same  profession 
or  occupation  to  dine  together.  Apart  from  the 
fact  that  there  is  usually  less  harmony  among 
such,  and  they  are  almost  sure,  like  members  of 
the  same  family,  to  quarrel  with  each  other,  there 
is  this  further  objection,  that  their  conversation 
is  apt  to  be  exclusively  professional.  If  all  di- 
vines, their  talk  wdll  be  divinity;  if  all  lawyers, 
law ; if  all  doctors,  medicine ; and  if  all  mer- 
chants, trade.  The  result,  of  course,  can  not  be 

* It  would  seem  from  this  record,  taken  from  a French 
paper,  but  accredited  to  an  English  one,  that  the  same  super- 
stition prevails  in  England:  “Died,  John  Andrew  Malkeith, 
aged  fift3"-four.  His  business  was  that  of  a qualorzihne^  or 
fourteenth  man  at  table.  He  was  thus  often  employed  to 
dine  three  or  four  times  on  the  same  day,  and  had  accumu- 
lated by  the  exercise  of  his  functions,  which  were  liberally 
paid,  the  sum  of  $100,000 1” 


208 


rOKM  OF  INVITATIONS. 


very  grateful  to  the  dames  who  may  be  present, 
who  will  not  care,  probably,  to  be  regaled  in  the 
intervals  of  the  soup  and  fish,  or  the  roast  and 
dessert,  with  the  perplexities  of  faith,  the  uncer- 
tainties of  justice,  and  the  nauseous  details  of 
physic.  Brillat  Savarin,  than  whom  there  is  no 
better  authority,  says  that  the  guests  invited  to 
a dinner  “ should  be  so  selected  that  their  occu- 
pations shall  be  varied^  their  tastes  analogous, 
and  with  such  points  of  contact  that  there  shall 
be  no  necessity  for  the  odious  formality  of  jire- 
sentations.” 

The  invitations,  if  the  party  is  a formal  one, 
should  be  sent  about  a week  or  ten  days  before 
the  dinner.  The  usual  formula  is  simply  this, 
either  written  in  a note  or  printed  on  a card : 

“ Mr.  and  Mrs.  request  the  pleasure  [or  honor]  of 

Mr.  ’s  company  to  dinner  at  — o’clock  on . 

“R.  S.V.  P.” 

A formal  acceptance  should  read  thus: 

“Mr. accepts  with  pleasure  Mrs. ’s  invita- 
tion to  dinner  at  — o’clock  on 

All  written  invitations  should  be  answered  im- 
mediately in  writing,  but  especially  invitations 
to  dinner,  and  should  be  complied  with  at  all 
hazards.  If,  by  any  mischance — as  the  death 
of  a relative,  or  some  other  serious  cause — the 
guest,  after  having  once  accepted  an  invitation, 


EXACTNESS. 


209 


is  unable  to  comply  with  it,  he  must  be  careful 
to  send  notice  of  the  fact,  with  his  regrets,  at  the 
earliest  possible  moment. 

At  all  dinner-parties  the  ladies  and  gentlemen 
are  exiDected  to  present  themselves  in  full  even- 
ing costume.  Delicate  hosts  and  hostesses,  par- 
ticularly when  the  occasion  is  not  a very  formal 
one,  will  take  care  to  keep  their  own  dresses  in 
due  subordination,  lest  they  may  possibly  out- 
shine too  evidently  some  of  their  guests,  and  un- 
necessarily put  them  to  the  blush.  Thus  a fas- 
tidious host  will  not  seldom  keep  to  his  frock- 
coat  and  black  cravat,  wdth  a nice  consideration 
for  some  invited  person  who  may  by  chance  have 
neglected  to  put  on  the  swallow-tail  and  wdiite 
choker  de  rigueiir. 

Punctuality  is  essential  to  the  perfection  of 
dining,  as  it  is  to  the  proper  performance  of  ev- 
ery other  social  duty.  A half  hour’s  grace  used 
to  be  allowed,  and  it  was  not  the  thing”  to  ar- 
rive at  the  exact  time  appointed.  Fashion,  how- 
ever, now  sanctions  what  common  sense  has  al- 
ways inculcated,  and  men  of  society  are  expect- 
ed, alike  with  men  of  business,  to  be  exact  in 
their  engagements. 

On  reaching  the  house,  the  gentleman,  if  aC“ 
companied  by  a lady,  gives  her  his  arm  on  enter- 
ing the  drawing-room,  and  the  first  person  ad- 
O 


210  KIGIITS  OF  PEECEDENCE. 

dressed  should  be  the  hostess.  Very  fashionable 
people  have  a footman  at  the  door  to  announce 
the  names  of  the  guests  as  they  present  them- 
selves. If  this  is  not  done,  the  host  or  hostess 
may  introduce  their  visitors  to  each  othei*,  taking 
care  to  make  as  little  fuss  as  j)ossible  about  it. 
When  introductions  are  disj^ensed  with,  as  they 
may  be  with  propriety,  the  guests  should  have 
no  hesitation  in  conversing  freely  with  each  other 
as  mutual  acquaintances. 

When  the  dinner  is  announced,  which  should 
be  done  by  the  servant  simply  saying  “The  din- 
ner is  served,”  a procession  is  at  once  formed. 
The  host  gives  his  right  arm  to  the  feiuale 
guest  Avho  has  the  precedence  from  age,  rank,  or 
strangeness,  and  leads  her  to  a place  at  the  din- 
ner-table on  his  right,  he  being  at  the  head  or  at 
one  side.  Next  comes  the  most  distinguished 
male  guest  with  the  hostess.^'  She  seats  herself 
at  the  other  extremity,  or  at  the  opposite  side 
of  the  table,  with  her  cavalier  on  her  right.  The 
rest  follow  in  couples,  ranked  generally  accord- 
ing to  age,  and  as  they  enter  the  dining-room  are 
placed  so  that  the  host  may  be  flanked  on  either 
side  by  a dame,  and  the  hostess  by  a cavalier. 

* In  England  the  hostess  often  remains  with  her  cavalier, 
the  most  important  male  person,  until  the  last,  and  performs 
the  duty  of  pairing  the  guests. 


HUSBAND  AND  WIFE. 


211 


The  rest  of  the  guests  are  arranged  in  successive 
couples,  so  that  each  cavalier  will  be  between 
two  dames,  and  each  dame  between  two  cava- 
liers, provided  the  sexual  proportions  of  the  par- 
ty allow  of  such  an  arrangement.  It  is  usual  to 
separate  the  husband  from  his  wife,  and  tempora- 
rily sever  other  domestic  relations.  This  does 
not  seem  flattering  to  the  conjugal  and  family 
ties,  but  the  practical  efiect  is  undoubtedly 
good. 


212 


LATE  AND  EAELY  MEALS. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

Etiquette  of  the  Dinner  (continued). — After  Dinner. 

If  you  value  your  health  you  will  take  a sub« 
stantial  meal,  call  it  what  you  please,  at  an  ear- 
ly hour  in  the  day,  say  at  noon,  or  thereabout. 
Plain  people  devour  this  repast,  terming  it  din 
ner,  while  the  fashionable  eat  it  with  no  less  ea- 
gerness, but  under  the  appellation  of  luncheon^ 
or,  as  the  French  say,  dejeHner  d la  foiirchette. 
It  is  unquestionably  favorable  to  the  vigor  of 
the  body  to  supply  it  with  a large,  perhaps  the 
largest,  portion  of  its  essential  nutriment  be- 
tween twelve  and  one  o’clock.  The  appetite  is 
almost  universally  strong  at  this  time,  and  the 
corporeal  energies  being  in  their  fullest  strength, 
the  function  of  digestion  is  more  readily  and  ef- 
fectively performed.  We  have  no  objection  to 
a late  meal — in  fact,  a sound  stomach  requires 
it ; but  it  is  dangerous,  nay,  fatal,  to  postpone 
the  satisfaction  of  a hearty  appetite  until  the 
close  of  the  day.  We  all  require  the  early  solid 
repast,  call  it  what  you  may — dinner,  luncheon, 
or  dejediier  d la  foiirchette.  The  later  meal,  if 


HOW  TO  ENJOY  DINNER. 


213 


subordinate,  is  also  beneficial,  and  it  matters 
not  whether  you  eat  it  as  the  humble  supper  or 
as  the  stately  dinner. 

The  mistake  which  is  made  by  many  who 
take  a late  dinner  is,  that  they  make  it  serve 
the  purpose  of  both  dinner  and  supper.  Instead 
of  taking  in  the  middle  of  the  day,  as  they 
should,  a good  deliberate  meal,  of  which  meat 
ought  to  form  the  chief  part,  they  put  off  the 
appetite  with  a dry  biscuit,  which  appeases  hun- 
ger, but  fails  to  nourish  the  body.  It  is  dan- 
gerous to  abandon  the  early  dinner  without  an 
equivalent  in  the  form  of  the  solid  luncheon. 
All  epicures  agree,  moreover,  that,  to  appreciate 
a recherche  dinner,  it  must  not  be  eaten  with  the 
voracity  of  the  man  famished  by  a whole  day’s 
hunger,  but  approached  with  the  cool  delibera- 
tion of  a person  in  the  full  command  of  all  his 
faculties,  dietetic  and  aesthetic.  This  he  can  not 
have  unless  he  has  subjected  his  appetite  by  a 
proper  satisfaction  of  its  requirements  at  the  ear- 
ly and  natural  feeding-time  of  the  day.  To  ap- 
preciate your  dinner,  you  must  eat  luncli,”  is  an 
axiom  in  the  science  of  gastronomy. 

Considering  the  fashionable  dinner  as  dietet- 
ically  subordinate  to  the  solid  noonday  repast, 
the  hour  of  its  occurrence  becomes  of  compara- 
tively little  importance.  In  England  people  sel- 


214 


HOW  TO  SERVE  DINNER. 


dom  sit  down  to  it  before  seven  or  half  past  sev- 
en or  eight  o’clock.  In  France  six  is  the  usual 
hour;  and  the  fashionable  people  of  the  United 
States  seem  generally  inclined  to  follow  the 
French  in  this,  as  in  other  things.  If  our  advice 
and  a substantial  meal  at  noon  be  taken,  we 
would  recommend  the  ceremonious  repast  of  the 
day  never  to  be  eaten  earlier  than  half  past  five. 

The  ordinary  mode  of  serving  a dinner  is  the 
French  one.  The  various  dishes  are  placed 
upon  the  table  just  as  they  leave  the  hands  of 
the  cook,  and,  being  carved  by  host  and  hostess, 
are  distributed  by  the  servants  to  the  guests. 
For  formal  occasions,  however,  the  Russian  mode, 
or  the  diner  d la  Mnsse^  has  become  fashionable. 
The  dishes,  when  this  style  is  adopted,  are  not 
served  until  cut  up,  when  they  are  handed  in 
succession  to  each  guest  by  the  waiters.  The 
table  is  adorned  in  the  centre  with  flowers,  and 
fruit  fresh  and  sugared,  various  galantines  of 
fowl  and  game,  and  ornamental  confectionery. 
The  plates  of  soup  are  generally  put  on  the  table 
before  the  guests  are  called  in,  and  a bill  of  fare, 
as  well  as  the  name  of  each  person,  to  indicate 
the  seat  he  is  to  take,  printed  or  written  upon  a 
card,  is  placed  on  the  napkin. 

Under  each  soup-plate  there  is  one  of  the  or- 
dinary kind.  On  the  right  of  this  there  are  a 


DUTIES  OF  THE  HOST.  215 

napkin,  a piece  of  bread,  four  glasses — the  tum- 
bler first,  then  the  Madeira,  then  the  claret,  and 
finally  the  Champagne  glass.  Two  large  knives 
and  forks  are  placed  with  the  knives  on  the  right 
and  forks  on  the  left  of  each  guest ; and  when 
the  dessert  is  to  be  eaten,  a silver  knife  and  fork 
and  spoon  are  served  upon  the  small  plate,  with 
the  finger-bowl  and  doily.  The  guest,  on  receiv- 
ing these,  spreads  his  doily  on  his  left,  deposits 
the  finger-bowl  upon  it,  and  noiseh^ssly  sets  his 
knife  on  the  right  and  his  fork  and  spoon  on  the 
left. 

The  first  duty  of  the  entertainer  is  to  see  that 
his  friends  are  well  served.  “ The  host  who  has 
compelled  a guest  to  ask  him  for  any  thing  is  al- 
most a dishonored  man.”  He  should  anticipate 
the  wants  of  all. 

The  old  rule  that  “ no  one  asks  twice  for  soup” 
may  now  almost  be  said  to  be  true  in  regard  to 
all  the  dishes.  Such  is  their  number,  and  the 
systematic  succession  in  which  they  are  served, 
that  few  want  “ more,”  or  care  to  ask  for  it,  for 
fear  of  deranging  the  order  of  a well  regulated 
dinner.  The  host  and  hostess,  however,  when 
carving,  will  not  fail  to  invite  each  guest  to  a 
renewed  attack,  especially  upon  the  substantial 
dishes  before  them;  but  an  excessive  entreaty 
to  eat  is  not  in  good  taste,  and  a refined  guest 


216 


A GOOD  DINNER. 


never  expects  it.  In  the  Kussian  dinner  the 
servants  make  a second  round  with  all  the  arti- 
cles except  the  soup,  but  the  opportunity  thus 
offered  for  ‘“a  cut  and  come  again”  is  seldom 
availed  of. 

Tlie  guest  should  commence  eating  as  soon  as 
heljied,  and  not  wait,  as  some  people,  with  a 
strain  at  excessive  politeness,  do,  until  all  are 
served,  and  thus  produce  an  awkward  pause  of 
staring  expectancy. 

Tlie  ordinary  French  dinner  consists  of  soup, 
fish,  hors  cV oeuvres^  such  as  olives,  anchovy  salads, 
radishes,  etc.,  eaten  during  the  early  pauses  of 
the  dinner;  entrees^  or  side-dishes,  consisting  of 
pates^  croquettes^  etc. ; roast  meats,  vegetables, 
and  sweet  dishes,  such  as  puddings,  soulHets, 
and  hot  confections ; and,  lastly,  a dessert  of 
cheese,  fruits,  cakes,  sweetmeats,  and  ices.  The 
coffee  follows.  These  various  dishes  are  served 
and  eaten  in  the  order  in  which  they  are  named. 
We  in  this  country  vary  somewhat  the  French 
mode.  We  eat,  for  example,  potatoes  with  fish, 
and  all  other  vegetables  with  the  dishes  of  meat. 
The  salad  is  eaten  just  before  the  sweets,  and 
often  with  the  roast  fowl  or  game.  The  Earl  of 
Dudley,  an  English  lord  and  fastidious  diner, 
used  to  say,  “A  good  soup,  a small  turbot”  (a 
fish  we  haven’t  in  America),  ‘‘  a neck  of  venison, 


RISING  FROM  TABLE. 


217 


ducklings  with  green  peas,  or  chicken  with  as- 
paragus, and  an  apricot  tart,  is  a dinner  fit  for 
an  emperor — when  he  can  not  get  abetter.”  A. 
still  simpler  one  ought  to  content  the  sovereign 
people  of  a republic.  Say:  soup,  salmon  and 
peas,  a pair  of  boiled  chickens,  and  a roast  joint, 
with  the  various  vegetables,  followed  by  a good 
pudding  or  tart,  and  the  usual  knickknackeries  of 
confectionery.  If  a brace  of  partridges,  or  a pair 
of  canvas-back  ducks,  with  the  accompaniment 
of  either  a salad  or  currant  jelly,  should  be  add- 
ed, and  eaten  just  before  the  dessert,  the  ban- 
quet will  be  one  which  ought  to  satisfy  the  most 
exacting  of  guests  in  this  democratic  country. 

It  is  seldom  now  that  there  is  any  removal  of 
the  table-cloth  or  disclosure  of  the  mahogany. 
This  is  rendered  unnecessary  by  a free  use  of 
large  napkins,  which  are  so  placed  as  to  protect 
the  main  covers  where  exposed,  and  be  readily 
changed  without  fuss  or  derangement  of  the 
general  order  of  the  service.  When  the  dinner 
has  been  eaten,  the  French — and  decorous  people 
every  where  should  do  likewise — all  rise  togeth- 
er, cavaliers  and  dames,  and  return  to  the  draw- 
ing-room in  the  order  they  left  it.  Here  the  cof- 
fee and  tea,  together  with  liqueurs,  are  served;  and 
after  an  hour  or  so,  unless  the  evening  is  to  be 
prolonged  by  the  arrival  of  additional  company, 


218 


DINNER  OBSERVANCES. 


and  a supplementary  dance  or  other  amusement, 
the  guests  disperse  to  their  homes.  A call  ot 
ceremony  upon  the  late  hostess — which  can  be 
made  in  person  or  by  sending  a card,  some  time 
during  the  succeeding  week — is  the  becoming 
thing,  though  often  neglected  by  the  ignorant  or 
indifferent. 

We  need  not  go  so  far  back  into  the  elements 
of  breeding  as  some  writers  on  etiquette  have 
done,  and  remind  our  Avell-bred  readers  that  it  is 
not  considered  polite  to  pick  one’s  teeth  with  a 
fork  at  the  dinner-table,  and  that  the  water  in 
the  finger-glasses  is  not  to  be  drunk,  but  to  be 
used  to  wash  the  hands.  The  various  observan- 
ces of  dinner  ceremony  are  not  so  frivolous  as 
they  may  appear.  For  example,  it  will  be  found 
that  it  is  most  convenient  not  to  take  soup  twice, 
not  to  put  the  knife  into  the  mouth,  and  not  to 
allow  the  waiter  to  serve  the  guests  on  the  right. 
Two  plates  of  soup  are  too  much  fluid  for  any 
stomach  at  the  beginning  of  a dinner ; a knife  is 
a cutting  instrument,  and  may  do  mischief  if  in- 
troduced between  the  lips ; and  nothing  can  be 
more  awkward,  as  you  will  find  on  trying,  than 
the  attempt  to  take  any  thing  from  a waiter  on 
the  wrong,  or  right-hand  side.^' 

* The  servants  should  always  serve  each  one  at  table  on 
his  left.  There  is  a story  told  of  a negro  servant  of  Wash- 


ONE  AT  A TBIE. 


219 


At  a large  dinner-party  it  is  better  to  confine 
your  powers  of  entertainment  to  your  immediate 
neighbors,  and  avoid  bawling  out  to  those  oppo- 
site or  at  a considerable  distance  from  you. 
Where  the  service  is  limited,  you — if  of  the  mas 
culine  gender — must  attend  constantly  to  the 
wants  of  the  dames  immediately  under  your 
wings.  Avoid  all  gross  heaping  up  of  your 
plate.  As  a general  rule,  refuse  to  be  served 
with  more  than  one  kind  of  meat  and  vegetable 
at  a time.  There  are  certain  things  which  are 

ington,  who,  not  being  able  to  distinguish  between  the  right 
and  left,  w’as  instructed  to  serve  the  guests  on  the  side  where 
he  saw  no  buttons,  which  it  was  then  customary  to  wear  in 
a single  row  on  the  right  breast  of  the  coat.  With  this  guide 
Pompey  found  it  plain  sailing  until  there  came  a guest  fresh- 
ly arrived  from  France  with  the  new  fashion  of  a double  row 
of  buttons.  Pompey  looked  first  at  the  one  side  and  then  at 
the  other,  and  was  for  a moment  terribly  perplexed.  He, 
however,  soon  came  to  the  wise  conclusion  that  the  gentle- 
man, having  two  sets  of  buttons,  was  entitled  to  be  waited 
upon  all  around,  and  accordingly  grasping  the  plate  with  tw^o 
hands,  thrust  it  over  the  guest’s  head  w ith  a grin  of  triumph. 

Servants  ordinarily  wear  white  gloves,  or  have  the  thumb 
wrapped  in  the  corner  of  a napkin  while  handing  any  thing. 
Some  would-he  exquisite  guests  sit  down  to  dinner  gloved, 
but  this  is  an  inconvenient  practice  w’hich  an  intelligent  re- 
finement does  not  recognize.  Where  the  service  is  complete, 
a guest  should  not  give  unnecessary  trouble  to  his  neighbors 
by  calling  upon  them  to  exercise  any  part  of  the  functions  for 
the  performance  of  w'hich  a proper  number  of  efficient  per- 
sons are  especially  provided. 


220 


EISING  TOGETHER. 


supposed  to  be  sufficiently  harmonious  for  a com- 
bination— as,  for  example,  ham  and  boiled  chick- 
en, rice  or  potatoes  and  tomatoes.  There  is  one 
good  rule  which,  if  followed,  will  make  you  an 
acce23table  guest  every  where:  Be  not  obtru- 
sive. Do  every  thing  smoothly  and  quietly. 
Talk  in  a low  tone  of  voice,  and  handle  your 
knife  and  fork  and  plate  without  clatter,  and  eat 
without  any  audible  gulping  and  smacking  of 
the  lips. 

It  was  once  an  essential  part  of  the  dinner-ta- 
ble etiquette  in  England,  and  in  America  by  in 
heritance,  for  the  ladies  to  retire  after  the  des- 
sert and  a first  round  of  the  wine  decanters.  The 
confessed  purpose  of  the  practice  was  to  allow 
the  gentlemen  to  indulge  freely  in  strong  drink 
and  loose  talk,  unchecked  in  their  grossness  by 
the  restraining  influence  of  refined  women.  Pol- 
ished France  has  given  us  a lesson  of  better 
manners,  and  the  social  dinner  is  now  less  often 
marked  by  this  coarse  reminder  of  the  diverg- 
ence of  the  brutal  instincts  of  one  sex  from  the 
delicate  sentiments  of  the  other.  The  more  re- 
fined people  in  England  and  the  United  States 
now  generally  adopt  the  French  practice  of  all 
rising  together  from  the  dinner-table.  The  ef- 
fect of  this  simple  change  in  etiquette  has  been 
very  great  and  most  beneficial.  Drunkenness, 


RETURN  TO  THE  DRAWING-ROOM.  221 

once  a fashion  and  almost  esteemed  a social  vir- 
tue, is  no  longer  admitted  in  respectable  com- 
pany, but  has  been  forced  to  slink  away  to  the 
bar-room  and  other  haunts  of  vice. 

When  the  dinner  is  over  and  the  half  of  an 
hour  or  so  has  been  passed  in  talk  and  trifling 
with  the  dessert,  the  hostess  gives  the  signal  by 
rising  from  the  table,  and  all  return  to  the  draw- 
ing-room in  the  order  they  left.  Here  coflee  and 
tea  are  provided,  and  it  is  good  taste  to  have 
them  served  with  as  little  formality  as  possible. 
The  less  exhibition  of  the  flunkey  force  on  the 
occasion  the  better.  The  tray  having  been 
placed  by  the  servant  on  the  table,  the  dame  of 
the  house  pours  out  the  beverages,  whatever 
they  may  be,  and  invites  her  guests  to  partake 
of  them.  The  gentlemen,  of  course,  take  care  of 
the  ladies  before  they  take  care  of  themselves, 
but  all  is  done  quite  unceremoniously.  It  is  sel- 
dom, in  fact,  that  a person  takes  a seat,  but  all 
remain  standing,  or  walk  about  the  drawing- 
room, conversing  or  admiring  the  pictures,  arti- 
cles of  and  whatever  else  may  invite  notice. 
The  visit  to  the  drawing-room,  being  merely  de- 
signed to  graduate  the  farewell,  and  thus  render 
the  departure  less  abrupt,  is  naturally  informal, 
for  it  is  but  a ceremony  in  an  incipient  state  of 
dissolution.  The  stay  after  dinner,  unless  addi- 


222 


TAKING  LEAVE. 


tional  company  has  been  invited,  and  there  is  a 
supplementary  evening  party,  is  seldom  prolong- 
ed beyond  half  aii  b.our,  when  leave  is  quietly 
taken. 


ANCIENT  AND  MODERN  ENTERTAINMENTS.  223 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

Ancient  and  Modern  Hospitality. — Etiquette  of  the  Evening 

Party  and  Ball. — The  Effect  of  late  Parties. — Manners 

and  Morals. — Treatment  of  Servants. 

Hospitality,  as  practiced  by  our  ancestors, 
can  hardly  be  said  to  exist  any  longer.  The 
word,  in  fact,  is  nearly  obsolete.  The  ceremoni- 
ous displays  of  fashion  have  usurped  the  place 
of  the  social  entertainments  of  friendship.  No 
one  hardly  pretends  nowadays  that,  in  spread- 
ing a table  or  opening  his  drawing-rooms,  he  is 
actuated  by  an  impulse  of  generosity  or  friend- 
liness. He  is  merely  complying,  as  he  is  ready 
to  acknowledge,  with  the  exactions  of  fashion, 
and  takes  no  more  credit  to  himself  for  the  pro- 
fuse bounty  of  his  dinners  and  costly  splendor 
of  his  balls  than  for  the  graceful  cut  of  his  coat 
or  elegant  turn  of  his  boot.  His  feelings  have, 
in  fact,  no  more  to  do  with  the  one  than  his  taste 
has  with  the  other.  Both  are  devised  by  a set 
of  trades -people,  Avho  liave  become,  by  some 
means  or  other  not  easy  to  determine,  the  minis- 
ters of  that  power,  of  which,  though  no  one  knows 
the  origin,  all  are  forced  to  acknowledge  the  au- 
thority. 


224  UNIFORMITY  OF  FASHIONABLE  PARTIES. 

Balls,  evening  parties,  soirees,  receptions,  or 
whatever  else  they  may  be  called,  are  entirely 
arranged  and  controlled  by  Fashion  and  her  ;ub 
ministrators.  The  hired  master  of  ceremonies, 
the  upholsterer,  the  florist,  the  pastry-cook  and 
confectioner,  are,  in  fact,  the  dispensers  of  mod- 
ern hospitality^  if  we  may  be  permitted  the  sac- 
rilegious use  of  that  sacred  word  in  such  a con- 
nection. 

The  ordinary  evening  parties  or  balls  of  our 
large  cities  are  so  much  alike,  that  a dame 
whisked  otf,  in  the  old  mysterious  way  of  the 
fairy-books,  from  one  to  the  other,  and  set  down 
within  the  arms  of  a fresh  cavalier,  would  hard- 
ly be  conscious  of  a change  even  in  the  pair  of 
mustaches  by  which  her  cheek  is  titillated  in 
the  waltz. 

Cards  are  generally  issued  from  ten  days  to 
four  weeks  before  the  ball  or  dancing-party  to 
the  various  persons  on  the  fashionable  list,  sup- 
plied by  a Brown  or  some  other  hired  undertaker 
of  public  ceremonials.  This  is  the  usual  form 
of  invitation,  engraved  upon  a card  or  written 
upon  note-paper: 

“ Mrs.  A.  [or  B.]  requests  the  honor  [or  pleasure]  of  Mr 

’s  company  on  the  evening  of , at  half  past  eight 

o’clock.  R.  S.V.P.” 

The  hour  is  more  frequently  left  unmentioned ; 


INVITATIONS. 


225 


and,  even  when  specified,  the  guest  is  not  expect- 
ed to  be  punctual.  None  but  the  most  intimate 
friends  think  of  ^oino*  to  a formal  and  fashion- 

o o 

able  party,  where  there  is  to  be  dancing,  before 
half  past  nine  or  ten  o^clock,  and  an  invited  per- 
son may  enter  with  propriety  at  any  hour,  how- 
ever late,  during  the  night.  Whether  an  answer 
is  requested  or  not  by  the  letters  R.  S.  V.  P.  {re- 
pondez^  sHl  v oils  plait — “ answer,  if  you  please”), 
it  must  be  sent  in  a day  or  two,  and  written  in 
the  same  formal  style  as  the  invitation,  the  ac- 
ceptance of  which  may  be  thus  expressed : 

“Mr.  T.  accepts  with  pleasure  the  polite  invitation  of  Mrs. 
A.  for  the  evening  of 

A refusal  should  be  written  as  follows : 

“ Mr.  T.  regrets  that  he  can  not  accept  the  polite  invita- 
tion of  Mrs.  A.  for  the  evening  of 

When  an  invitation  is  accepted,  it  must  be,  if 
possible,  faithfully  complied  with.  It  is  not  sel- 
dom that  an  invited  person  takes  an  uninvited 
friend  to  a ball  or  evening  dancing-party,  but  he 
ought  not  to  do  so  without  first  asking  permis- 
sion of  the  giver  of  it.  As  he  is  not  likely  to  be 
refusedj  he  must  hold  himself  entirely  responsi- 
ble for  the  character  and  conduct  of  his  compan- 
ion, who,  previous  to  and  after  the  party,  should 
send  a card. 

It  is  a good  rule  for  those  Avho  are  not  able  or 
P 


226 


ENTERING  THE  ROOM. 


inclined  to  dance  to  refuse  all  invitations  to  balls 
and  other  parties  where  the  guests  are  expected 
to  do  so.  This  is,  of  course,  not  to  be  regard- 
ed as  obligatory  where  dancing  is  but  a supple- 
ment of  the  general  business,  and  card-playing, 
conversation,  and  other  occupations  are  to  form 
parts  of  the  social  labor  of  the  evening. 

On  descending  from  the  dressing-rooms,  which 
should  be  always  provided,  the  guest  makes  his 
way  at  once  to  the  dame  of  the  house,  and,  after 
a conventional  phrase  or  two,  yields  his  place  to 
the  next  comer.  When  a gentleman  is  accom- 
panied by  his  wife  or  any  other  lady,  he  should 
always  wait  for  her  before  entering  the  drawing- 
room, and,  giving  her  his  right  arm,  escort  her 
to  the  presence  of  the  hostess.  It  is  regarded  as 
decorous  to  abandon  her  then  to  the  tender  mer- 
cy of  the  general  politeness.  “ You  must  nev- 
er dance  with  your  wife  except  as  a freak,  when 
every  body  else  in  the  quadrille  does  the  same,” 
says  a cold-blooded,  but,  we  presume,  an  unques' 
tionable  authority. 

The  polite  hostess  takes  care  to  mark  her  con^ 
duct  for  the  night  by  a total  abnegation  of  self. 
Her  toilette  is  carefully  subdued,  so  that  it  may 
not  surpass  the  average  splendor,  and  her  tri- 
umphs are  sought  in  the  brilliancy  of  the  occa- 
sion, and  not  in  the  eclat  of  her  own  personality. 


DUTIES  OF  A HOSTESS. 


227 


She  is  constantly  seeking  opportunities  of  dis- 
play for  her  guests,  that  they  may  shine  in  the 
brightest  and  most  favorable  light  while  she  is 
obscuring  herself.  She  is  pre-eminently  the  en- 
tertainer, and  seeks  her  own  enjoyment  in  that 
of  others.  She  especially  takes  care  to  treat  all 
her  guests  with  a zealous  and  equal  courtesy. 
She  recognizes  no  distinctions  of  rank,  birth,  or 
Vv^ealth,  and  acknowledges  no  precedence  beyond 
what  society  universally  exacts.  She  waives  for 
the  occasion  all  favoritism,  and  rather  neglects 
a friend  than  fail  to  show  attention  to  a stran- 
ger. In  these  days  she  has  little  to  do  with  the 
more  material  -part  of  the  entertainment.  The 
arrangement  of  this  mainly  devolves  upon  the 
florist,  the  conductor  of  music,  the  restaurateur, 
and  the  hired  master  of  ceremonies,  but  she 
carefully  sees  to  the  fulfillment  by  each  of  his 
special  vocation.  At  supper,  of  which  she  is 
the  last  to  partake,  she  watches  closely  the  con- 
duct of  the  servants,  and  is  quietly  but  constant- 
ly urging  them  to  their  duty.  The  husband  or 
the  gentleman  of  the  house  has  subordinately 
the  same  offices  to  perform  and  bearing  to  main- 
tain as  the  hostess,  but,  while  she  is  more  exclu- 
sively occupied  with  the  male,  he  is  particularly 
devoted  to  the  female  guests. 

Every  gentleman  should  escort  a lady  to  the 


228 


SOCIAL  OFFENDERS. 


supper-room,  and,  after  attending  to  her  wants 
or  tastes,  never  forget  to  return  with  her  to  the 
ball  or  drawing  rooms,  for  nothing  can  be  more 
impolite  than  to  leave  an  ‘‘  unprotected  female” 
to  shift  for  herself  amid  the  tumult  of  a crowd 
of  modern  party-guzzlers.  During  the  dance  all 
should  be  exclusively  devoted  to  their  partners, 
and  never  allow  themselves  to  keep  up,  by  con- 
versation or  the  telegraph  of  the  eye  and  face,  a 
communication  with  others. 

Even  those  people  who  are  familiar  with  all 
the  formalities  of  fashionable  society  are  often 
the  worst  offenders  against  the  common  decen- 
cies of  life.  It  may  be  as  well  to  remind  such 
that  it  is  by  no  means  decorous  to  pass  most  of 
the  night  in  the  dressing-rooms  smoking  cigars, 
and  so  infecting  their  persons  with  the  disagree- 
able odor  that  their  presence  becomes  insuffera- 
ble to  every  decent  nose.  It  should  also  be 
borne  in  mind  that  decorum  in  the  use  of  wine 
is  not  to  be  measured  by  the  generosity  of  the 
host  in  supplying  it.  The  consumption,  how- 
ever, of  Champagne  is  not  seldom  in  proportion 
to  its  abundance,  and  there  are,  in  consequence, 
occasional  scenes  at  our  dancing-parties  which 
bring  the  Fifth  Avenue  very  close  to  Water 
Street.  Among  the  vicious  results  of  ill-regu- 
lated fashionable  intercourse  are  observable  a 


EVILS  OF  LATE  PAKTIES. 


229 


ivant  of  respectful  reserve  between  our  young 
people  of  both  sexes,  an  interchange  of  slang 
phrases,  audacious  and  dangerous  flirtations,  and 
a general  defiance  of  the  prudent  restrictions  of 
home. 

The  length  to  which  the  ordinary  dancing- 
party  or  ball  is  prolonged  is  a serious  evil.  In 
our  working  community  there  are  but  few  who, 
if  they  dance  all  night,  can  sleep  all  day,  for  most 
of  the  gay  cavaliers  of  the  evening  are  the  busy 
drudges  of  the  morning.  Our  youthful  damsels, 
it  is  true,  by  the  mistaken  indulgence  of  their 
parents,  can,  if  their  excited  nerves  will  let  them, 
sleep  away  as  many  of  the  twenty-four  hours  as 
they  please,  but  their  partners  can  not,  for  they 
are  wanted,  for  the  most  part,  at  the  shop  and 
counting-house.  The  mere  loss  of  sleep,  the  re- 
cuperative influence  of  which  is  so  necessary, 
must  be  a serious  damage  to  the  health  of  the 
young  gallants  who  strive  to  comply  with  the 
requirements  both  of  fashion  and  business.  We 
would  advise  our  friends  to  be  always  among 
the  earliest  to  leave  a fashionable  party.  There 
is,  moreover,  no  rule  of  politeness  which  exacts 
a very  prolonged  stay. 

A visit  is  expected  on  some  day  during  the 
week  after  a ball  or  evening  party.  A card 
will,  however,  be  i^enerally  accepted  from  the 


230 


HUMAN  NATURE  OF  SERVANTS. 


busy  male  as  a substitute,  tliough  a personal  ap- 
pearance is  exacted  from  the  more  leisurely 
dame. 

‘'There  is  a great  deal  of  human  nature  m the 
world,”  said  Jacob  Faithful,  and  it  is  to  be  pre- 
sumed that  servants  have  their  fair  share  of  it. 
Housekeepers,  however,  would  seem  unwilling  to 
concede  this ; and  we  should  judge  from  the 
manner  in  which  many  of  them  treat  their  do- 
mestics that  they  regarded  them  as  of  an  organ- 
ization entirely  different  from  their  own,  with  no 
portion  of  that  abundant  human  nature  of  which 
Marryat’s  hero  spoke. 

Servants  are  ordinarily  regarded  by  their  em- 
ployers as  so  many  pieces  of  mechanism  con- 
structed to  do  a certain  quantity  of  work  of  a 
particular  kind,  according  to  their  especial  func- 
tions, whether  as  cook,  nurse,  chamber-maid,  or 
Avaiter.  There  are  indispensable  household  re- 
sults to  be  accomplished  daily.  The  beef  must 
be  roasted  and  the  potatoes  boiled,  the  baby  fed 
and  dandled,  the  rooms  swept  and  beds  made, 
the  hall-door  opened  and  table  serA^ed,  and  the 
Irish  Bridgets  and  German  Katerinas  are  the 
machines  provided  to  execute  these  operations. 
Should  they  by  chance  show  any  tendency  to 
rest  from  work  or  diverge  from  its  object,  the 
ever-Avatchful  superintendent  infers  that  the  ma- 


MISTKESS  AND  MAID. 


231 


chinery  is  imperfect,  and  rejects  it.  If  Bridget, 
for  example,  should  by  hazard  fancy  that  she 
was  human,  and  fall  in  love  with  some  stray 
Patrick,  and  Katerina,  under  a similar  delusion, 
become  conscious  of  a patriotic  sentiment,  and 
steal  away  with  Hermann  to  the  Schtitzenfest  or 
some  other  festive  reminder  of  the  fatherland, 
they  would  be  sure  to  be  condemned  as  worth- 
less by  many  mistresses  of  the  household. 

It  is  astonishing  how  completely  the  human 
nature  of  the  servant  is  ignored  by  her  employ- 
er. The  single  pair  of  stairs  which  leads  from 
the  parlor  to  the  kitchen  would  seem  to  separate, 
as  it  were,  by  an  unfathomable  abyss,  the  wom- 
an above  from  the  woman  below.  The  former 
has  no  sympathy  for  the  feminine  instincts  of 
the  latter;  she  will  not,  in  fact,  admit  of  their 
existence.  The  mistress,  however  conscious  of 
her  own  feminine  tendencies  and  inclined  to  in- 
dulge them,  will  not  recognize  or  give  any  scope 
to  such  in  her  servant.  The  former  may  coquet, 
love,  and  marry,  and  will  complacently  regard 
herself  as  fulfilling  her  vocation ; the  latter  is 
forbidden  the  companionship  of  her  male  friends, 
and  is  denounced  as  a trollop  if  she  is  caught 
passing  a stolen  word  to  the  baker  or  butcher  at 
the  back  door.  In  England  a female  servant  is 
always  asked,  before  she  is  employed,  whether 


232 


INTIMACY  WITH  SERVANTS, 


she  has  any followers.”  By followers”  are 
meant  suitors.  If  the  poor  creature  confesses  to 
this  very  natural  result  of  a pretty  face  or  some 
other  female  attraction,  she  is  condemned  at 
once.  This  cruel  exaction  of  the  servant-woman 
tliat  she  should  neither  love  nor  be  loved  is  also 
not  unfrequently  made  in  this  country,  though 
differently  expressed.  “ visitors  allowed”  is 
the  usual  form  of  the  harsh  ordinance  of  our 
task-mistresses. 

The  want  of  a due  recognition  of  the  claims 
of  the  servant  to  human  sympathy  is  shown, 
moreover,  in  the  habitual  reserve  of  their  mis- 
tresses. There  is  not  only  that  cold  formality 
of  relation  wdiich  forbids  any  warmth  of  attach- 
ment, but  a studied  avoidance  on  the  part  of  the 
employer  of  all  knowledge  of  the  intimate  and 
personal  interests  of  the  employed.  Hence  there 
is  complete  ignorance  and  a consequent  want  of 
mutual  confidence.  Fidelity  can  only  come  from 
love,  and  love  implies  intimacy.  Mistresses,  in 
fact,  are  not  sutficiently  intimate  with  their  serv- 
ants. If  they  have  real  dignity  and  a personal 
superiority  of  their  own,  they  need  not  fear  any 
degradation  from  a closer  contact  with  their 
subordinates,- for  the  advantage  of  height  wdll 
only  become  more  apparent  by  the  opportunity 
of  comparison  with  lowness. 


OBLIGATION  OF  CIVILITY. 


233 


A closer  sympathy  of  the  employer  with  the 
employed  is  particularly  important  as  regards 
the  servant  in  relation  to  children.  The  educa- 
tion of  the  latter  is  greatly  dependent  upon  the 
character  of  the  domestic  with  whom  the  child 
must  be  necessarily  in  constant  and  close  com- 
munion. By  improving  her  servant,  the  mother 
will  find  that  she  is  indirectly  but  surely  elevat- 
ing her  offspring. 

A more  complete  recognition  of  the  human  el- 
ement of  the  servant  Avill  be  found  not  only  ad- 
vantageous, but  may  soon  become  absolutely  nec- 
essary. The  servant  has  her  future  in  America 
as  Avell  as  others.  We  can  not  always  calculate 
upon  the  present  supply  of  the  raAV  material  of 
Germany  and  Ireland,  Avhich  requires  only  to  be 
kept  in  working  order  by  an  abundance  of  beef, 
potatoes,  and  Avages.  Employers  Avill  be  forced, 
sooner  or  later,  to  seek  for  their  servants  exclu- 
sively among  civilized  people,  and  to  compensate 
them  not  only  by  a fair  day’s  pay  for  a fair  day’s 
work,  but  by  a treatment  which  Avill  recognize 
to  its  fullest  extent  their  human  dignity. 

There  is  no  surer  sign  of  ill  breeding  and  ill 
feeling  than  the  rude  treatment  of  dependents. 
The  obligation  of  civility  to  servants  should  be 
inculcated  especially  upon  the  young  American, 
who  ought  to  learn  at  the  earliest  period  that 


234 


POLICY  OF  GOOD  TREATMENT. 


the  accidental  relation  of  advantage  of  position, 
which  is  ever  alternating  in  a country  free  from 
prescriptive  right,  gives  no  title  to  a haughty 
demeanor  and  a domineering  conduct.  The  rec- 
ognition of  the  mutual  obligation  of  master  and 
man,  and  mistress  and  maid,  is  a certain  sign  of 
the  true  gentleman  and  lady,  who  will  never  ex- 
act from  those  temporarily  placed  in  subjection 
to  them  the  civility  they  are  unwilling  to  be- 
stow. The  ‘Hhank  you,”  “please,”  and  other 
courteous  expressions  of  a kindly  consideration 
of  the  obligation  of  the  employer  to  the  employ- 
ed, will  be  freely  proffered  by  all  who  are  fully 
conscious  of  their  social  duties  and  willing  to  ac- 
knowledge them.  Policy,  as  well  as  good  breed- 
ing, inculcates  the  necessity  of  gentle  treatment 
and  courteous  behavior  to  servants,  who  will  sel- 
dom fail  to  respond  with  a more  zealous  service 
and  a readier  obedience  to  exactions  and  com- 
mands rendered  less  harsh  and  domineering  by 
a soft  word  and  a subdued  ma&tery. 


nSITING  LISTS. 


235 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

Visiting  Lists. — Report  of  tlie  Proceedings  of  a Morning 
Visit. — Etiquette  of  Visits  and  Cards. — New-Year’s  Visits. 
— At  Home,  or  not  at  Home  ? — P.  P.  C. 

Every  dame  nowadays  has  what  is  called  a 
visiting  list.  This  is  composed  of  a number  of 
persons  of  her  own  sex  who  spend  money,  dress, 
and  make  calls  very  much  as  she  herself  does. 
No  other  sympathy  than  is  indicated  by  these 
is  required  by  mutual  visitors  of  the  fashionable 
sort.  They  need  not  be  friends ; it  is  not,  in  fact, 
necessary  that  they  should  be  acquaintances,  and 
w^e  actually  know  of  two  dames  who  not  long 
since  met  in  the  street  and  looked  into  each 
other’s  face  as  perfect  strangers,  though  they 
had  been  on  visiting  terms  for  the  last  ten  years 
or  more.  There  is  so  little  substance  in  this  kind 
of  social  relationship  that  its  obligations  can  be 
as  Avell  performed  by  a mere  symbol  as  the  per- 
son it  represents,  and  thus  a bit  of  card-board, 
with  nothing  but  a name  upon  it,  frequently 
serves  every  purpose. 

Visitors,  however,  do  occasionally  meet,  and, 
according  to  a very  good  authority,  this  is  the 
result ; 


236 


A VISITING  SCENE. 


Mrs.  a.  “How  delighted  I am  to  see  you  ! It 
is  an  age  since  I have  had  this  pleasure  ! What 
a charming  bonnet !”  * 

Mrs.  B.  “You  think  so?” 

Mrs.  a.  “ It  is  perfect ! But  any  thing  upon 
you  looks  well.” 

Mrs.  B.  “I  never  saw  you  looking  better;  that 
morning  dress  is  so  becoming ! I have  just  left 
Mrs.  C.  She  was  horribly  dressed.” 

Mrs.  a.  “ How  can  it  be  otherwise  with  such 
an  ugly  creature?  What  a beautiful  sack  that 
is  ! Who  made  it  for  you  ?” 

Mrs.  B.  “ Madame  Bonnechose.  Have  you 
seen  Mrs.  C.  lately  ?” 

Mrs.  a,  “ No  ; and  I don’t  care  to  see  her ; she 
is  such  a fool.  You  know  that  affair?” 

Mrs.B.  “Yes;  with  Mr.  T.” 

Mrs.  a.  “ I will  have  to  refuse  to  see  her  if  she 
calls  again.  You  are  going  already  ?” 

Mrs.  B.  “ Yes  ; I have  some  shopping  to  do.” 

Mrs.  a.  “ Don’t  be  so  long  again,  my  dear 
Mrs.  B.,  before  coming,  and  another  time  don’t 
go  away  in  such  a hurry.” 

Soon  after  the  departure  of  Mrs.  B.,  who  goes 
to  another  house,  where  she  reports  that  Mrs.  A. 
was  looking  as  yellow  as  a iDumpkin,  and  wore 
such  a common-looking  morning  dress,  Mrs.  C, 
and  Mrs.  D.  arrive. 


TIPEES  AND  TOADS. 


237 


Mrs.  A.  ‘‘How  kind  it  is  of  you  to  call!  It 
is  an  age  since  you  have  done  me  this  favor! 
What  a heautiful  lace  veil ! my  dear  Mrs.  C. ; 
and  those  shoes  of  yours,  Mrs.  D.,  are  exquisite; 
but  no  wonder,  with  such  feet !” 

Mrs.  D.  “ Don’t  talk  of  my  feet ; it’s  you  Avhc 
have  a foot  worth  talking  about.” 

Mrs.  a.  “Mrs.  B.  has  just  been  here.” 

Mrs.  C.  “Why,  she  told  me  she  didn’t  visit 
you  any  more.” 

Mrs.  a.  “ What ! If  she  don’t  take  care,  what 
she  says  may  come  true.  You  know  what  peo- 
ple say  about  her — ” 

Mrs.  D.  “ It’s  disgusting !” 

Mrs.  a.  “ She  had  the  ugliest  bonnet  on  you 
ever  saw ; and  such  a sack ! I could  hardly  keep 
from  laughing.  And  such  a bore ! 1 could  hardly 
get  rid  of  her.  You  are  going  already  V Don’t 
be  so  long  another  time  before  coming  to  see  me ; 
and  try,  wlien  you  do  come,  my  dear  Mrs.  C.,  and 
you  too,  my  dear  Mrs.  D.,  to  stay  a little  longer.” 

If  such,  as  it  has  been  reported  to  us,  is  the  re- 
sult of  these  fashionable  visits  when  made  in 
person,  then,  for  goodness’  sake,  let  them  be  per- 
formed symbolically,  and  those  fine  dames  of 
“ society,”  Mrs.  A.,  Mrs.  B.,  Mrs.  C.,  and  Mrs.  D., 
spared  the  necessity  of  opening  their  mouths 
and  letting  out  vipers  and  toads,  like  the  little 


238 


ADVANTAGE  OF  FORMALITY. 


girl  in  the  fairy  tale,  and  the  other  abominable 
things  of  scandal  and  falsehood. 

There  are  certain  occasions  when  society  ex- 
acts the  payment  of  formal  visits,  as,  for  exam- 
ple, in  exchange  for  a call  of  courtesy ; after  an 
invitation  to  a dinner,  ball,  or  other  ceremoni- 
ous entertainment ; after  weddings,  births,  and 
funerals ; on  any  occasion  deemed  worthy  of  per- 
sonal congratulation  ; on  the  return  of  a visiting 
acquaintance  to  his  residence,  whether  in  town 
or  country ; and  on  the  arrival  and  stay  of  a vis- 
itor at  the  house  of  a friend. 

It  would  seem  to  be  the  object  of  modern 
fashion  to  interpose  as  many  formalities  as  pos- 
sible between  the  members  of  society,  in  order 
to  prevent  intimacy  of  contact.  This,  perhaps, 
is  a necessary  result  of  the  immense  expansion 
of  the  great  cities,  and  the  consequent  widening 
of  the  social  relation.  It  would  be  manifestly 
impossible,  if  every  fashionable  acquaintance  be- 
came an  intimate  friend,  and  thus  entitled  to  the 
freedom  of  familiarity,  to  retain  any  of  that  per- 
sonal reserve  which  is  essential  to  self-respect 
No  one,  moreover,  with  even  the  smallest  visit- 
ing list,  if  each  person  in  it  had  the  liberty  of  an 
intimate,  and  could  present  himself  when,  where, 
and  how  he  pleased,  would  be  able  to  find  time  for 
the  performance  of  the  ordinary  duties  of  daily 


VISITS  AND  CARDS. 


239 


life.  It  is  well,  perhaps,  therefore,  that  a hit  of 
card-board,  with  nothing  but  a name  upon  it,  has 
been  generally  accepted  as  a symbol  of,  and  sub- 
stitute for  the  formal  visit.  All  society  has  rea- 
son to  rejoice  in  a device  by  which  the  bore  has 
been  politely  but  effectually  balked  of  his  vic- 
tims. On  most  ceremonious  occasions,  there- 
fore, the  bit  of  pasteboard  is  gratefully  accepted 
in  lieu  of  a visit.  There  is  no  fixed  regulation 
in  regard  to  the  size,  form,  and  character  of  the 
card  and  the  inscription,  but  all  extremes  and 
marked  peculiarities  should  be  avoided.  It  is 
customary  to  prefix  to  the  name  military  and 
naval  indications  of  rank,  the  ordinary  titles  of 
Mr.,  Mrs.,  and  Miss,  and  the  professional  ones, 
such  as  Right  Rev.,  Rev.,  and  Dr. ; but  in  this 
country  Hon.  and  Excellency,  for  which  there  is 
no  warrant  but  courtesy,  are  never  taken  by  the 
unassuming.  The  address  is  generally  engraved 
in  modest  letters  in  a corner.  It  is  deemed 
proper  for  a person  to  leave  the  card  himself,  oi* 
send  it  by  his  own  servant,  but  not  by  the  post 
or  street  porter.  When  one  calls  with  the  view 
of  making  a personal  visit,  and  is  not  admitted, 
he  indicates  the  fact  of  its  personality  by  turiv 
ing  down  a corner  or  broad  edge  of  the  card 
This,  however,  may  be  but  a caprice  of  fashion, 
destined  soon  to  yield  to  some  other  of  a totally 


240 


new-year’s  calls. 


different  kind.  Even  Avhen  admitted  to  a house 
it  is  right  to  give  the  servant  a card,  by  which 
the  person  visited  may  be  made  unmistakably 
cognizant  of  the  name  of  the  visitor.  If  there 
are  several  persons  in  the  same  house  entitled  to 
calls,  a card  should  be  left  for  each.  A male 
visitor  ordinarily  takes  off  his  great-coat  before 
entering  the  drawing-room,  but  carries  his  hat 
in  his  hand.  His  visit  should  be  short,  and  gen- 
erally brought  to  a close  w'henever  another,  who 
is  not  a common  friend  of  himself  and  the  mis- 
tress of  the  house,  arrives. 

In  France,  whenever  a new-comer  of  recog- 
nized respectability  fixes  his  residence  in  a place, 
he  or  she  is  expected  to  make  the  first  calls. 
This,  however,  is  not  the  rule  in  England  and 
America,  where  the  settled  residents  are  ex- 
pected to  pay  the  initiatory  courtesies,  although 
in  the  large  cities,  when  a family  returns  after  a 
considerable  absence,  it  is  not  unusual  to  send 
cards  to  their  friends  as  an  announcement  of 
their  arrival,  and  to  make  known  their  address. 

New-year’s  calls  are  very  much  like  other  vis- 
its, except  that  they  are  made  exclusively  by 
the  male  sex,  a wider  range  of  time  is  allowed 
for  them,  say  from  ten  o’clock  in  the  morning 
to  nine  o’clock  in  the  evening,  and  a greater 
display  of  toilette  on  the  part  of  the  ladies  ^^  ho 


ETIQUETTE  OF  LEAVE-TAKING. 


241 


receive  is  expected.  The  gentlemen  present 
themselves  ordinarily,  as  on  other  visits,  in  the 
fashionable  costume  of  the  morning  and  jororm 
enade,  and  not  in  the  dress-coat  and  other  pai’ts 
of  the  dinner  and  ball  array.  The  stay  is  com- 
monly very  shori;,  and  seldom  continues  after  the 
arrival  of  a fresh-corner.  A great  latitude  is  al- 
lowed to  the  use  of  cards,  and  the  introduction 
by  a visitor  of  his  friends  and  acquaintances. 
The  refreshments  may  be  more  or  less  abundant 
and  varied,  accoi’ding  to  the  hospitable  disposi- 
tion and  taste  of  the  hostess.  With  the  increase 
of  the  gi'eat  cities,  and  the  consequent  enlai'ge- 
ment  of  our  social  cii'cles,  there  is  a growing  dis- 
position on  the  part  of  fashionable  dames  to  i-e- 
fuse  themselves  on  New-year’s  Day  to  all  but 
relatives  and  intimates  of  their  families. 

The  politest  receivers  of  a visit,  if  of  the  fe- 
male sex,  are  not  expected  to  do  more  than  bow 
the  head,  say  a gracious  word  or  two  of  fare- 
well, and  ring  the  bell  for  the  servant  to  open 
the  street-door  on  the  departure  of  a male  guest. 
Women,  however,  are  always  treated  with  a 
more  condescending  courtesy  by  the  well-bred 
even  of  their  own  sex,  who  will  rise  and  accom- 
pany them  at  least  as  far  as  the  drawing-room 
door,  while  a gallant  man  who  has  been  honored 
by  a visit  from  a lady  will  escort  her  to  the  last 

Q 


242 


FAREWELL  CARDS. 


exit  from  his  house,  and  even  to  the  steps  of  the 
carriage,  if  there  should  be  one  awaiting  her. 
Discreet  visitors,  ever  mindful  of  the  suggestive 
line — 

“Welcome  the  coming,  and  haste  the  departing  guest,” 
will  linger  as  little  as  possible  in  transitu  from 
door  to  door. 

We  need  not  make  use  of  the  conventional  lie, 
even  if  justified  by  the  moral  philosopher  Paley, 
which  asserts  that  we  are  “ not^''  though  we  are 
“ at  home,”  when  it  is  convenient,  for  any  reason 
whatsoever,  to  refuse  a visitor.  The  most  fas* 
tidious  sensibility  should  not  be  offended  at  the 
simple  and  honest  word  “ Engaged,”  civilly  soft 
ened  by  the  tact  of  a judicious  servant. 

It  is  the  general  custom  for  those  who  profess 
to  comply  with  the  exactions  of  fashion  to  pay 
a farewell  visit  to  their  acquaintances  when 
about  to  leave  a residence  forever  or  a consider- 
able time.  Cards,  however,  are  ordinarily  sub- 
stituted for  a personal  interview,  and  upon  these 
are  written  P.  P.  C.  {Pour  prendre  conge)^  “ To 
take  leave,” 


AMEKIOAN  LOVE  OF  TITLES. 


243 


CHAPTER  XIX 

American  Titles. — Proper  Forms  of  Address. — Tlie  Use  of 
the  “Sir”  and  “Madam.” — Professional  Titles. — How  to 
address  Letters. — Esq. — Female  Titles. — Nicknames. — ■ 
Introductions. — Letters  of  Introduction. — Presentations 
to  Court. — Visits  to  the  President. 

There  is  an  evident  tendency  with  ns  demo- 
cratic Americans  to  supply  our  want  of  author- 
ized social  distinctions  with  titular  appellatives, 
which  have  no  warrant  beyond  the  impudent  as- 
sumption of  those  who  take,  or  the  flattering 
courtesy  of  those  who  give  them.  The  titles 
which  distinguish  rank  in  the  army  and  navy, 
and  are  of  obvious  use,  are  the  only  ones  recog- 
nized by  American  law.  The  “ Excellencies”  and 
‘‘ Honorables,”  so  profusely  distributed  among 
the  numerous  successful  aspirants  for  popular  fa- 
vor, are,  whether  given  to  the  august  chief  mag- 
istrate of  the  republic,  or  to  the  illiterate  alder- 
man’s assistant  oftke  lowest  municipality,  equah 
ly  without  sanction. 

These  unauthorized  titles  are  used  with  the 
profusion  with  which  they  are  bestowed.  While, 
in  most  of  those  countries  where  social  distinc- 


244 


SIKS  AND  MADAMS. 


tions  are  recognized  by  law,  it  is  considered 
good  breeding  to  avoid  in  conversation  the  fre- 
quent repetition  of  the  titles  which  mark  them, 
in  the  United  States  the  various  denominations 
of  fanciful  rank  are  heard  in  every  phrase. 

The  ordinary  “ Sir”  and  “ Madam,”  to  one  ct 
which  we  all  consider  ourselves  more  or  less  en- 
titled, are  uttered  with  a frequency  and  an  em- 
phasis which,  though  evidently  intended  to  be 
courteous,  would  be  regarded  in  England  as  im- 
polite. We  seem  to  have  borrowed  our  man- 
ners in  this  respect  from  the  French,  who  lose 
no  opportunity  of  announcing  the ‘‘ Monsieur,” 
“Madame,”  and  “ Mademoiselle.”  Our  English 
relatives  avoid  the  repetition  of  the  “ Sir,”  “Mad- 
am,” and  “ Miss,”  except  when  they  desire  to 
express  a certain  degree  of  coldness  or  severity, 
and  a sense  of  superiority  or  inferiority.  Serv- 
ants, they  say,  must  always  remember  their  “ My 
lords”  and  “ My  ladies,”  their  “Sirs”  and  “Mad- 
ams,” and  their  “ Masters”  and  “ Misses,”  and 
gentlemen  as  carefully  forget  them. 

The  professional  title  of  “ Doctor”  of  Medicine 
is  never  omitted,  for  the  obvious  reason  of  the 
advantage  to  him  to  whom  it  belongs,  and  oth- 
ers, of  having  it  as  widely  known  as  possible. 
The  “ Doctors”  of  Divinity  and  Civil  Laws,  also, 
though  the  purpose  may  not  be  so  easy  to  ex- 


TITULAR  ADDRESSES. 


245 


plain,  are  generally  spoken  of  and  to  by  their 
titles,  which,  however,  should  not  be  very  fre- 
quently repeated  in  a conversation  addressed  to 
tliemselves.  ‘‘Judge”  has  been  greatly  vulgar- 
ized by  its  indiscriminate  use  and  application  in 
America,  though  never  heard  in  England,  and 
any  man  of  taste  entitled  to  it  would  consider 
himself  doubtless  more  honored  by  a breach  of 
ceremony  in  this  respect  than  by  its  observance. 
While  in  the  performance  of  his  functions,  and 
during  his  tenure  of  office,  it  may  be  useful  and 
appropriate  that  the  judge  should  be  called 
“judge,”  but  when  off  the  bench  permanently 
there  can  be  no  motive  for  retaining  a title  which 
is  apt  to  be  bandied  about  with  the  contempt- 
uous familiarity  of  a nickname.  “ Governor,” 
“ Mayor,”  “ Chancellor,”  and  other  civil  denom- 
inations, should  likewise  be  restricted  in  use  to 
the  duration  of  office. 

Though  it  may  not  be  good  breeding  to  repeat 
too  frequently  in  conversation  with  people  the 
titles  which  may  distinguish  them,  it  is  deemed 
courteous  to  give  them  all  they  can  claim  on  the 
back  of  letters  addressed  to  them.  The  Presi- 
dent of  the  United  States,  the  governors  of  the 
various  states,  and  the  ministers  to  foreign  coun- 
tries of  different  grades,  have  generally  the  pre- 
fix M “ His  Excellency”  to  their  names.  For  ex- 


246 


COLLEGIATE  TITLES. 


ample,  it  is  usual  to  write  “ His  Excellency  Gen- 
eral XJ.  S.  Grant,  President  of  the  United  States,” 
or  simply  ‘‘His  Excellency  the  President  of  the 
United  States.”  “The  Honorable”  is  given  to 
the  judges  of  the  Supreme  Court,  the  various 
members  of  the  cabinet,  of  the  Senate,  of  the 
House  of  Representatives,  the  chief  officers  of 
the  state  governments,  executive,  legislative,  and 
judicial,  the  mayor,  aldermen,  and  assistant  al- 
dermen of  the  most  corrupt  municipalities,  to  a 
lower  descent  than  which  we  may  be  spared  the 
necessity  of  tracing  it.  “ The  Right  Reverend” 
is  inscribed  on  every  letter  to  a bishop,  of  what- 
ever denomination  he  may  be,  and  “ The  Rever- 
end” in  all  addresses  to  the  clergy.  “ The”  is  an 
essential  part  of  these  inscriptions  of  honor,  and 
should  never  be  omitted. 

The  collegiate  or  University  distinction  of  Doc- 
tor is  never  properly  written  in  full  as  an  ad- 
dress, but  is  thus  inscribed  : “ John  Smith,  Esq., 
“ The  Rev.  Jabez  Poundtext,  J9.Z).y” 
“ The  Right  Rev.  Boniface  Ignatius  Episcopus, 
“Timothy  Smart,  Esq.,  ZX.Z^.”  It  is  no 
compliment  to  those  who  have  gained  the  title 
of  Doctor  to  give  it  indiscriminately  to  every 
horse  - drencher  and  starved  apothecary.  The 
titles  of  A.B.  and  A.M.  are  never  added  to  the 
superscription  of  an  ordinary  letter.  “ Parson”  is 


ESQUIKES. 


247 


a good  English  word,  but  it  has  been  so  vulgar^ 
ized  and  made  a term  of  contempt  that  no  cler- 
gyman is  disposed  to  answer  to  it.  It  can  only 
be  respectfully  used  nowadays  thus  associated : 
“ Parson  of  the  Parish.” 

Every  male  person  in  this  country  feels  him- 
self  entitled  to  have  the  “ Esq.”*  at  the  end  of 
his  name,  and  any  one  who  pretends  to  exercise 
his  discretion  in  the  use  of  it  must  do  so  at  his 
own  peril.  Your  Irish  Bridget  of  the  kitchen 
never  fails  to  confer  upon  her  dear  Patrick  of 
the  stable-yard  the  “ Esq.,”  and,  with  a superflu- 

* The  following  are  considered,  in  England,  to  have  a le- 
gal right  to  the  title  of  Esquire : 

“The  sons  of  Peers,  whether  known  in  common  conversa- 
tion as  Lords  or  Honorables. 

‘ ‘ The  eldest  sons  of  Peer’s  sons,  and  their  eldest  sons  in 
perpetual  succession. 

“All  the  sons  of  Baronets. 

“The  Esquires  of  the  Knights  of  the  Bath. 

“ Lords  of  manors,  chiefs  of  clans,  and  other  tenants  of  the 
Crown  in  capite,  are  Esquires  by  prescription. 

“Esquires  created  to  that  rank  by  patent,  and  their  eldest 
sons  in  perpetual  succession. 

‘ Esquires  by  office,  such  as  J ustices  of  the  Peace  while  on 
the  roll ; Mayors  of  towns  during  mayoralty,  and  Sheriffs 

counties  (who  retain  the  title  for  life). 

“ Members  of  the  House  of  Commons. 

“Barristers  at  Law. 

* ‘ Bachelors  of  Divinity,  Law,  and  Physic. 

‘‘  All  who,  in  commissions  signed  by  the  sovereign,  are  ever 
styled  Esquire,  retain  that  designation  for  life.” 


248 


FEMALE  DIGNITARIES. 


ous  generosity  of  honor,  gives  him,  in  addition, 
the  prefix  of  “Mr.,”  and  will  thus  Avrite  down 
his  name,  if  she  can  write  at  all,  “JIfn  Patrick 
O’Shaughnessy,  Esq^- 

There  are  some  people  Avho  are  so  generous  of 
rank  that  they  give  it  not  only  to  the  husband, 
who  may  be  doubtfully  entitled  to  it,  but  to  the 
wife,  who  certainly  is  not.  Thus  Ave  may  oc- 
casionally see  the  inscription  “Mrs.  Doctor,” 
“ Mrs.  Right  Rev.,”  “ Mrs.  Rev.,”  “ Mrs.  Honora- 
ble,” etc.  These  are,  of  course,  inadmissible  in 
polite  society,  though  they  find  some  Avarrant  in 
German  usage,  Avhich  divides  the  smallest  honor 
of  the  man  Avith  the  Avoman ; and  thus  the  Avife 
of  Herr  Kenchenjunge  Grosenfat,  chief  scullion 
of  the  first  cook  of  the  grand  chamberlain  of  the 
first  minister  to  the  Grand  Duke  of  Pumpernickel, 
becomes  “Mrs.  Kenchenjunge  Grosenfat,  chief 
scullion,  etc.”  Those  Avomen  who  in  these  later 
days  have  made  good  their  right  to  be  useful  in 
the  Avorld,  and  fairly  won  their  diplomas  of  the- 
ology  and  medicine,  can  justly  claim  to  be  distin- 
guished by  the  titles  which  belong  to  them.  Wo 
must  of  course,  therefore,  write  “Mrs.  Dr.  Black- 
well,”  or  “ The  Rev.  Miss  Stone.” 

It  is  not  uncommon  in  this  country,  in  address- 
ing a married  woman,  to  give  her  her  Christian 
name,  thus  : “ Mrs.  Mary  Smith.”  This  is  not 


LETTEK-WRITING. 


249 


the  practice  of  the  English,  who  always  prefix 
the  husband’s  Christian  name,  thus:  “Mrs.  John 
Smith.”  Where  the  married  woman  is  married 
to  the  eldest  male  member  of  the  family,  or 
is  the  only  one  of  the  name,  she  receives  mere^ 
!y  the  title  of  “Mrs.  Smith,”  while  each  of  the 
others  is  distinguished  by  her  husband’s  name : 
“Mrs.  Feter  Smith,”  “Mrs.  Jonas  Smith,”  etc. 
Whenever  the  eldest  dies,  the  wife  of  the  eldest 
son  or  brother,  or  whoever  may  be  next  in  the 
order  of  succession,  succeeds  to  the  honor  of 
namelessness.  The  Christian  name  must  be  given 
to  all  but  the  eldest  of  the  unmarried  daughters. 
She  is  “ Miss  Brown,”  while  the  others  are  “ Miss 
Jane  Brown,”  “ Miss  Susan  Brown,”  etc.  When 
all  are  addressed  or  spoken  of  together,  we  say 
“ The  Misses  Brown,”  and  not  ‘^Miss  Browns.” 

In  very  formal  letters  it  is  usual  to  write  in 
the  third  person,  and  then  the  various  titles, 
“His  Excellency,”  “Mr.,’^  “Mrs.,”  and  “Miss,” 
are  used.  In  more  familiar  epistles  it  is  proper 
to  write  “Your  Excellency,”  “Right  Rev.  Sir,” 
“Reverend  Sir,”  or  “Reverend  and  dear  Sir,’ 
“ My  dear  Madam,”  “ My  dear  Sir,”  and  “ My 
dear  Miss  Smith,  ’ but  never  “My  dear  Miss’* 
only.  The  “ my  dears”  may  be  omitted  where 
the  intimacy  does  not  seem  to  justify  them,  and, 
as  a general  rule,  young  unmarried  women  should 


250 


NICKNAMES. 


be  addressed  in  the  third  person.  In  the  address 
at  the  beginning  of  a letter,  and  in  the  courteous 
expression  at  the  end,  it  is  better  to  adopt  the 
conventional  phrase  of  the  day.  It  is,  for  exam- 
ple, safe  to  keep  to  the  words  Respectfully 
yours,”  ‘‘  Your  obedient  servant,”  “ Yours  truly,” 
etc.,  and  make  no  attempts  to  rival  the  humorous 
felicities  of  Charles  Lamb’s  epistolary  endings. 

All  such  abbreviations  in  speaking  of  persons 
as  “ Doc,”  a “ Gent,”  an  ‘‘  M.  C.,”  a “ Reverend,” 
a ‘^Reb.,”  ‘^Mr.  A.,”  ‘‘Mrs.  B.,”  “Mr.  G.  Smith,” 
and  “ Mrs.  G.  Smith,”  and  nicknames  like  “ Prex,” 
“ Dominie,”  “ Prof,”  and  others,  are  inelegant,  to 
say  the  least,  and  the  usage  of  which  people  fas 
tidious  of  manners  and  in  language  are  careful  to 
avoid.  “ Governor,”  “ the  Old  Man,”  or  “ Old 
Gentleman,”  Paterfamilias^'^  “ the  Old  W oman,” 
or  “ Old  Lady,”  applied  to  one’s  father  and  moth- 
er, are  not  only  vulgar,  but  irreverent.  Young 
people  should  carefully  eschew  them,  and  take 
care  to  give  their  proper  titles  not  only  to  their 
parents,  but  to  all  other  persons  who  are  their 
superiors  and  elders.  They  must  never  speak 
of  these  as  “Smith,”  “Brown,”  or  “Jones,”  but 
give  them  the  conventional  prefixes  of  “Mr.,” 
“Mrs.,”  and  “Miss.” 

The  English  have  always  been  great  sticklers 
for  formal  introductions,  and  the  story  is  told  of 


FELLOW-TEA  VELERS. 


251 


one  who,  eying  with  his  glass  a drowning  fellow* 
mortal,  refused  to  extend  to  him  a saving  hand 
because  he  had  never  been  introduced. 

The  Americans  have  followed  to  some,  though 
not  to  this  absurd  extent,  the  example  of  their 
transatlantic  relatives.  We  are  by  no  means  so 
reserved  as  they.  Democratic  friction  has  nec- 
essarily broken  up  and  rubbed  off  a good  deal 
of  the  original  crustiness  of  our  nature.  Casual 
intercourse  between  strangers  in  America  is 
much  freer  than  in  England.  The  American, 
perhaps,  is  as  wanting  as  the  Englishman  is 
abounding  in  reserve.  The  proper  medium  is 
between  familiarity  and  resistance.  In  travel- 
ing, English  constraint  is  often  fatal  to  the  gen- 
eral ease  and  cheerfulness,  while  American  free- 
dom is  not  seldom  subversive  of  personal  com- 
fort. In  the  close  proximity  of  a railway  car- 
riage, two  strangers  can  make  themselves  mu- 
tually agreeable  without  any  sacrifice  of  personal 
dignity,  and  it  is  certainly  their  duty  to  do  so. 
The  concessions  on  such  an  occasion  are,  of  course, 
to  be  regarded  as  temporary.  They  are  drafts  at 
sight  on  each  other’s  courtesy,  to  be  paid  at  date, 
and  received  as  a final  settlement  which  bars  all 
ulterior  claims. 

The  Americans  generally  are  too  indiscrimi* 
nate  in  their  introductions.  They  seldom  allow 


252 


INTKODUCTION. 


two  strangers  to  be  together  a moment  without 
introducing  them  to  each  other.  No  presenta- 
tions should  be  made  without  a regard  to  the 
mutual  fitness  and  probable  acceptability  of  the 
acquaintanceship  about  to  be  formed.  No  two 
should  be  introduced,  however  closely  accident 
may  have  thrown  them  together,  if  they  would 
be  obviously  incongruous  as  intimate  associates. 
At  a dinner  or  other  party,  all  the  guests  are 
temporarily  to  regard  themselves  as  acquaint- 
ances, and  they  require  no  farther  introduction 
than  the  invitations  they  have  received  in  com- 
mon as  the  guests  of  the  same  host  or  hostess. 
Special  presentations  are  quite  unnecessary,  and, 
when  made,  will  indicate  the  desirableness  of  a 
permanent  friendship. 

In  introductions,  the  introduced  is  presented 
to  those  who  are  entitled  to  precedence  from 
sex,  age,  or  rank.  A gentleman,  whoever  he  may 
be,  is  thus  always  taken  to  the  lady,  the  citizen 
to  the  mayor,  the  mayor  to  the  governor,  and 
the  governor  to  the  president.  In  all  cases  but 
purely  official  or  formal  presentations,  it  is  pru- 
dent, as  well  as  polite,  to  secure  the  willingness 
of  those  whom  you  are  about  to  commend  to 
each  other’s  intimacy. 

Letters  of  introduction  may  be  useful  in  a 
strange  country  as  guarantees  of  social  credi^ 


LETTERS  OF  INTRODUCTION. 


253 


nt  home  in  the  case  of  an  emergency,  when,  for 
example,  by  some  mishap  or  other,  the  more  valid 
banker’s  one  has  failed.  They  have,  however, 
lost  much  of  their  former  power  as  a means  of 
getting  into  foreign  society.  There  is  now  so 
much  traveling,  and  consequent  abundance  of 
these  missives,  that  they  have  greatly  diminish- 
ed in  specific  value.  If  a stranger  now  gets  in 
exchange  for  one  of  them  a polite  bow  of  the 
head  and  a vague  offer  of  indefinite  service,  he 
must  need  be  satisfied. 

The  ordinary  letter  of  introduction  is  expressed 
in  a few  conventional  phrases,  as,  for  example : 

“I  have  the  pleasure  of  presentiug  to  your  acquaintance 
Mr. , whom  I commend  to  your  kind  attentions.” 

It  should  be  inclosed  in  an  open  envelope,  on 
which,  besides  the  address,  it  is  customary  to 
write,  in  the  left  and  lower  corner,  the  word 
“Introducing,”  followed  by  the  name  and  title 
in  full,  clearly  inscribed,  of  the  bearer.  When 
the  letter  is  to  be  delivered,  it  should  be  sent  to 
the  person  for  Avhom  it  is  intended,  wfith  a card 
on  which  are  the  name  and  address  of  the  person 
introduced.  The  response  should  be  in  the  form 
of  a call  and  an  invitation  to  dinner,  but  this 
latter  part  of  the  civility  is  not  always  complied 
with. 

A good  many  people  think  that  they  are 


254  ROYAL  AND  REPUBLICAN  PRESENTATIONS. 

obliged  to  give  a letter  of  introduction  to  every 
presentable  person  who  may  demand  it,  and  this 
has  led  to  the  depreciation  of  this  kind  of  social 
currency.  It  is  perfectly  conformable  with  the 
laws  of  courtesy  to  refuse  such  a favor  merely 
upon  the  ground  of  unwillingness  to  take  the 
liberty  of  j)resenting  any  one  to  the  person  to 
whom  the  introduction  is  asked. 

All  presentations  to  foreign  courts  are  made 
th^'ough  the  national  representatives,  and  the  in- 
formation in  regard  to  the  various  formalities  re- 
quired is  obtained  from  them.  The  President’s 
‘‘levees”  at  Washington  are  open  to  the  whole 
Avorld,  and  are  conducted  with  no  more  ceremo- 
ny than  an  ordinary  reception  by  any  citizen’s 
wife.  The  doors  of  the  White  House  may  be 
said  to  be  never  closed,  and  every  one  who 
pleases  may  call  upon  its  occupant  as  upon  that 
of  any  other  dwelling.  He  must,  however,  not 
always  expect  a personal  interview.  This,  to  be 
secured,  must  be  sought  in  the  company  of  some 
dignitary  or  intimate  of  the  President,  who  will 
thus  be  able  to  judge  of  the  claims  to  attention 
of  a visitor. 


BIETHS  OF  KESPECTABILITY. 


255 


CHAPTER  XX. 

Births  and  Christenings. — Giving  of  Names. — Presents.— 
Visits.  — Caudle  Parties.  — Etiquette  and  Ceremony  of 
Marriages. — At  Church. — In  the  House. — Death. — Fu- 
neral Ceremonies. — Finis. 

It  is  Sir  Thomas  Browne,  we  believe,  who,  like 
Captain  Shandy,  deplores,  and  Voltaire,  Ave  know, 
who  sneers  at  the  fact  that  so  noble  a being  as 
man  has  not  a more  glorious  entrance  into  the 
world.  Those  Avho  may  be  disposed  to  grow 
sad  with  the  one,  and  smile  scornfully  with  the 
other  at  the  informal  manner  in  Avhich  Nature 
presents  us  all  to  society,  have  no  reason  to  ques- 
tion the  ceremoniousness  of  the  reception  of  those 
whom  Fashion  takes  with  its  dainty  hands,  and 
acknowledges  as  its  own. 

No  sooner  has  the  doctor  or  nurse  rejoiced  the 
heart  of  the  opulent  Smith  or  Jones  with  the 
announcement  that  the  chances  of  the  extinction 
of  the  race  of  Smith  or  Jones  are  diminished  by 
the  birth  of  the  “ finest  baby  ever  born,”  than 
haste  is  made  to  give  the  widest  diffusion  to  the 
important  fact.  In  England  a birth  of  respecta- 
bility” is  at  once  published  in  the  London  Times, 


256 


children’s  rights. 


and  the  news  thus  conveyed  to  the  four  quarters 
of  the  globe.  In  the  United  States,  from  an  af- 
fected delicacy  of  reserve,  we  believe  it  is  not 
usual  to  announce  in  a newspaper  our  periodical 
domestic  issues.  It,  however,  is  the  most  con- 
venient medium  for  spreading  the  intelligence 
of  a fact  wUich  it  is  desirable  to  convey  to  all 
friends  and  acquaintances. 

Soon  after  the  news  of  a birth,  however  it  may 
arrive,  is  received,  female  friends  send  their  cards, 
and  ask  in  regard  to  the  health  of  the  mothei-, 
who,  when  she  is  well  enough,  returns  them 
“ with  thanks  for  kind  inquiries.”  Personal  vis- 
its are  then  expected,  and  these  must  be  paid 
Avith  the  utmost  punctiliousness.  Male  friends 
are  not  expected  to  call  on  such  occasions,  at 
any  rate  upon  the  mother.  They  may,  however, 
visit  the  father,  and  bestow  their  congratulations 
upon  him,  as  Avell  as  make  the  politest  inquiries 
in  regard  to  his  Avife  and  otfsjDring. 

The  first  great  social  eA^ent  in  which  the  neAA^- 
comer  is  deeply  interested,  though  not  person- 
ally consulted,  is  the  bestowal  of  the  name  by 
which  he  is  thenceforward  and  forever  to  be  rec* 
ognized  in  the  Avorld. 

Parents  are  apt  to  think  that  they  have  the 
right  to  call  their  children  what  they  please. 
We  Avould  remind  them,  however,  that,  apart 


NAME-GIVING. 


257 


from  the  claims  of  good  taste,  which  should  nev- 
er oe  disregarded,  every  mother’s  son  and  daiigh' 
ter  have  a vested  interest  in  the  names  bestowed 
n^Don  them.  Parents  have  no  right,  socially,  to 
disqualify  their  offspring  by  affixing  to  them  ei- 
ther inappropriate  or  unseemly  appellations. 

There  was  more  truth  than  oddity  in  Captain 
Shandy’s  notion  that  a great  deal  more  depend- 
ed upon  the  choice  and  imposition  of  Christian 
names  than  what  superficial  minds  are  capable 
of  conceiving.  “ How  many  Caesars  and  Pom- 
peys,  he  w^ould  say,  by  mere  inspiration  of  the 
names,  have  been  rendered  worthy  of  them  ! 
And  how  many,  he  would  add,  are  there  who 
might  have  done  exceeding  well  in  the  world 
had  not  their  characters  and  spirits  been  totally 
depressed  and  Nicodemus’d  into  nothing  !”  We 
commend  this  Sh andean  notion  to  every  parent, 
who  Ave  hope,  however,  may  escape  the  Shandean 
fate  of  having  a Tristram  in  the  family. 

In  Avell-regulated  families  the  simple  rule  is 
followed  of  giving  the  children  the  names  of 
their  grandparents,  parents,  and  other  relatives. 
In  Scotland  the  first  son  is  named  after  the  fa- 
ther’s father,  the  first  daughter  after  the  moth- 
er’s mother,  the  second  son  after  the  father,  and 
the  second  daughter  after  the  mother.  This  is  a 
good  general  rule  to  follow,  Avhich,  however,  ad;, 
R 


258 


PKEV AILING  NAMES. 


mits  of  excei)tions.  No  one,  for  example,  should 
perpetuate  an  ancestral  name  which  has  graced 
the  NeAvgate  Calendar,  been  affixed  to  the  vil- 
lage stocks,  or  swung  from  the  gallows-tree.  If 
the  appellation,  moreover,  should  be  positively 
ugly,  it  ought  to  have  the  go-by.  There  is  noth- 
ing gained  by  reviving  the  Hezekiah  Hogsflesh, 
for  example,  of  some  near  relative,  however  rep- 
utable and  dearly  beloved.  Parents  can  do  no 
better  than  strengthen  the  family  bond  of  union 
by  a repetition  to  the  farthest  generation  of  the 
family  names  from  which  the  ugly  and  disrepu- 
table have  been  weeded  out. 

The  prevailing  Christian  names  in  an  English 
or  American  family  are  an  indication  more  or 
less  of  its  origin.  The  predominance  of  Franks, 
Charleses,  Hughs,  Isabels,  Louisas,  Catharines, 
etc.,  is  a proof  of  Cavalier,  as  that  of  Hezekiahs, 
Reubens,  Jonahs,  Jonathans,  Rebeccas,  Marthas, 
etc.,  is  of  Puritanic  descent. 

Names,  however,  are  now  frequently  given 
which  indicate  nothing  more  than  the  peculiar 
sentiments,  tastes,  caprices,  and  fancies  of  those 
who  bestow  them.  The  pious  are  apt  to  turn 
to  the  Bible  for  a choice,  and  affix  to  their  chil- 
dren, with  a fond  and  almost  superstitious  hope 
of  sanctification,  the  names  of  some  patriarch, 
saint,  or  apostle.  It  is  curious  how  little  dis- 


SCKIPTUKAL  AND  PATKIOTIC  NAMES.  259 

crimination  is  sometimes  used  in  selecting  appel- 
lations from  the  Holy  Book,  which  is  supposed 
with  simple  reverence  to  render  sacred  every 
thing  it  may  contain.  We  have  all  heard  of  the 
mother  who  insisted  upon  calling  her  first-born 
Beelzebub,  for  it  was,  she  declared,  a Scriptural 
name,  which  none  could  gainsay.  We  know  two 
promising  scions  of  a serious  family  who  bear 
respectively  the  names  of  Abiathar  Benajah  and 
Jonah  Jonathan. 

The  sentimental  are  apt  to  be  guided  by  the 
last  novel  they  have  read,  and  to  borrow  the 
name  of  a favorite  hero  or  heroine  for  the  beloved 
son  or  daughter  of  their  house.  “ Our  second 
child,  a girl,”  says  the  Vicar  of  Wakefield,  “ I in- 
tended to  call  after  her  aunt  Grissel ; but  my 
wife,  who  during  her  pregnancy  had  been  read- 
ing romances,  insisted  upon  her  being  called  Oli- 
via.” A respectable  citizen  of  New  York  bears 
the  name  of ‘‘  Orondates,”  borrowed  by  his  moth- 
er from  the  hero  of  some  forgotten  novel. 

The  patriotic  choose  national  names,  and  thus 
the  Patricks  abound  in  Ireland,  the  Georges  in 
England,  the  Andrews  in  Scotland,  the  Hermanns 
in  Germany,  the  Louises  in  France,  and  the  Wash- 
ingtons and  Franklins  in  the  United  States.  The 
scion  whom  w^e  know,  of  an  intensely  loyal  sire, 
bears  the  Christian  name  of  George  Rex,  The 


260 


ULYSSES  IIIEAM  GRANT. 


following  is  the  history  given  by  General  Grant’s 
father  of  his  son’s  name  : 

It  occurred  in  this  way : he  was  our  first- 
born, and  his  grandfather,  grandmother,  and  sev- 
eral others  felt  an  interest  in  naming  him.  We 
finally  agreed  to  Avrite  all  the  names  Ave  chose 
(one  each,  there  being  seven  of  us),  place  them 
in  a hat,  and  draAV,  abiding  by  the  result.  Ulys- 
ses Avas  drawn  first.  But  his  grandfather’s  choice 
Avas  Hiram.  So,  to  please  my  father,  we  permit- 
ted it  to  be  Ulysses  Hiram;  but  all  know  hoAV 
they  got  his  name  Ulysses  S.  on  the  West  Point 
books,  I tried  to  get  it  corrected,  but  Ulysses 
said  he  didn’t  like  the  name  Hiram  any  way,  and 
so  we  let  it  stand.  We  have  never  had  any  rea- 
son to  object  to  it  since.” 

In  selecting  the  names  of  distinguished  peo- 
ple for  their  children,  it  AAmuld  be  Avise  for  par- 
ents to  aAvait  the  full  verdict  of  posterity  before 
committing  themselves  to  any  one’s  reputation 
for  greatness.  It  is  not  safe  to  assume  the  ex^ 
cellence  of  any  contemporary  name,  and  affix  to 
a child  a supposed  honorable  appellation  which 
time  may  turn  into  a stigma  of  disgrace.  During 
the  honorable  period  of  Benedict  Arnold’s  and 
Aaron  Burr’s  careers,  children  were  not  seldom 
called  after  them,Avho  grew  up  to  a consciousness 
of  the  shame  of  bearing  the  names  of  traitors. 


DISTINGUISHED  NAMES. 


261 


It  is  better,  perhaps,  to  avoid  altogether  the 
names  of  mark,  for  the  children  who  bear  them 
will  necessarily  suffer  by  the  continually  suggest- 
ed comparison  with  those  who  first  bore  them. 
If  their  careers  should  be  humble,  their  humili- 
ty will  be  increased ; if  aspiring,  their  utmost 
reach  will  be  deemed  a shortcoming.  Ridicule 
or  disappointment  must  be  the  inevitable  result. 
No  William  Shakspeare  Smith,  Francis  Bacon 
Jones,  Isaac  Newton  Brown,  Julius  Caesar  Jen- 
kins, or  Marcus  Tullius  Cicero  Higgins  can  ever, 
by  any  possibility,  however  gifted  by  nature  and 
improved  by  art,  reach  a degree  of  poetry,  phi- 
losophy, science,  military  heroism,  or  eloquence 
to  justify  his  name,  and,  if  but  a simple  mortal 
without  extraordinary  endowment,  survive  the 
ridicule  of  bearing  it.  An  eminent  author  has 
committed  this  error  in  regard  to  his  children, 
among  w^hom  there  are  a Sydney  Smith,  a Fran- 
cis Jeffrey,  and  an  Alfred  Tennyson.  He,  how- 
ever, thought,  no  doubt,  that  the  splendor  of  liis 
own  name  was  such  as  to  condemn  already  to 
comparative  obscurity  his  offspring,  and  that 
they  thus  might  not  be  harmed  by  any  addi- 
tional contrast  of  brilliancy  reflected  from  his  dis- 
tinguished contemporaries. 

If  parents  are,  for  want  of  family  names,  in 
search  of  others  for  their  children,  we  would 


262 


CEREMONY  OF  CHRISTENING. 


commend  them  to  the  familiar  and  unobjection- 
able, or  “neutral”  ones,  as  Sterne  terms  them,  of 
William,  John,  Francis,  Charles,  Henry,  Mary, 
Margaret,  Louisa,  Sarah,  Helen,  etc.  The  early 
English  names  are  getting  greatly  into  vogue; 
and  you  may  hear  in  almost  every  nursery  the 
pretty  appellations  of  Arthur,  Edith,  Ethel,  Ed- 
gar, Alfred,  and  Edwin.  These  are  mellifluous, 
and  come  from  ancestors  common  to  Americans 
and  English,  by  both  of  whom  their  memory  de- 
serves to  be  perpetuated. 

The  christening  is  most  frequently,  though  not 
always,  associated  with  the  baptism,  which  is  reg- 
ulated according  to  the  ecclesiastical  formulary 
of  the  peculiar  sect  to  which  the  parents  of  the 
child  may  belong.  In  the  Episcopal  Church 
there  are  always  three  sponsors  or  god-parents 
chosen  from  among  the  relatives  or  most  inti- 
mate friends,  and  one  of  them  should  be  he  or 
she  after  whom  the  child  is  named.  For  a boy 
there  must  be  two  godfathers  and  one  god- 
mother, and  for  a girl  two  godmothers  and  one 
godfather.  These,  however  they  may  neglect 
the  religious  responsibilities  they  assume,  must 
never  shirk  the  obligations  which  society  im- 
poses upon  them  of  making  a present  to  their 
god-children.  This  is  ordinarily  a silver  mug,  a 
knife,  fork,  and  spoon  of  precious  metal,  some 


CAUDLE  PARTIES. 


263 


costly  piece  of  laced  costume  fit  for  babyhood, 
or,  if  the  piety  of  the  giver  should  justify  it,  a 
handsomely  bound  Bible. 

The  convivial  part  of  a christening  consists  of 
A luncheon  or  dejeilner  d la  J-ourchette^  to  which 
the  relatives  and  most  intimate  friends  are  in- 
vited, and  generally  without  the  formality  of  a 
card  or  a note.  On  such  an  occasion  it  is  usual 
for  the  chief  male  sponsor  to  propose  the  health 
of  the  infantile  member  of  fashionable  society  in 
v/hose  honor  the  meeting  has  been  convened. 

Some  mothers,  when  ready,  after  the  four  or 
five  weeks  of  seclusion  exacted  by  a fastidious 
fashion,  to  face  their  female  friends,  find  it  con- 
venient to  assemble  them  together  at  a “ caudle” 
party,  when  it  is  not  essential  that  the  refresh- 
ment should  be  confined  to  the  ancestral  spoon- 
meat  from  which  the  name  is  derived.  The  table 
is  spread  on  such  occasions  with  the  usual  con- 
stituents of  the  fashionable  luncheon  or  break- 
fast, with  the  addition  of  cocoa,  perhaps,  or  some 
other  simple  beverage,  to  give  an  innocent,  con- 
valescent look  to  the  banquet. 

Few,  however  Quakerish  they  may  be  in  their 
opposition  to  ceremonials  generally,  resist,  on 
marrying,  the  ordinary  formalities  of  the  wed- 
ding. We  shall  not  pretend  to  give,  as  some 
have  assumed  to  do,  formularies  for  making  lo\  e 


264 


COURTSHIP  AND  ENGAGEMENT. 


or  plighting  troth,  but  we  doubt  not  that  many 
a person  has  been  left  to  pine  away  in  single 
misery  for  want  of  knowledge  of  the  proper  pro- 
cedure, simple  as  it  may  be. 

It  is  customary  in  every  country  but  our  own, 
we  believe,  to  ask  the  permission  of  the  parents 
of  the  beloved  one  before  formally  proposing  to 
her.  The  proposition  being  made  and  accepted, 
a ring,  called  ‘‘the  engagement  ring,”  usually 
containing  a single  diamond,  of  the  highest  val- 
ue to  which  the  generosity  and  means  of  the 
giver  are  capable  of  attaining,  is  presented  by 
the  successful  suitor  to  his  betrothed,  who  wears 
it  ostentatiously  on  the  ring-finger  of  her  right 
hand. 

The  ceremony  of  marriage  may  take  place  as 
soon  or  long  after  the  engagement  as  may  be 
convenient  to  the  parties  most  concerned.  Un- 
til then,  in  our  country,  the  intimacy  of  the  be- 
trothed is  left  unchecked  by  parental  interfer- 
ence. The  two  are  allowed  to  be  and  to  appear 
every  where  together,  and  ordinarily  show  them- 
selves in  the  public  streets  and  promenades 
linked  arm  in  arm. 

When  the  day  for  the  marriage  is  fixed,  the 
future  bride  pays,  in  company  with  her  mother, 
her  last  maiden  visits.  About  ten  days  or  a 
fortnight  before  the  day  of  the  ceremony,  cards 


PEESENTS. 


2Cj 


are  issued.  These  consist  of  the  separate  cards 
of  the  bride  and  bridegroom,  and  two  cards  of 
invitation,  on  one  of  which  there  are  merely  the 
name  and  situation  of  the  church,  with  the  date 
and  time  of  the  ceremony,  and  on  the  other  the 
names  of  the  parents,  thus  associated:  ‘‘Mr.  and 
Mrs.  John  Smith,”  and  an  invitation  to  the  house 
conveyed  by  the  words  “ at  home,”  with  the  ad- 
dress of  the  paternal  mansion,  and  the  date  and 
hour  of  the  reception.  All  these  cards  are  put 
into  one  envelope,  and  sent  to  the  relatives  and 
intimate  friends  of  both  parties.  The  card  com 
veying  the  invitation  to  the  house  is  left  out  of 
those  intended  for  mere  formal  acquaintances. 

Presents  are  expected  from  the  connections 
and  friends,  and  the  quantity  and  value  of  these 
have  become  of  late  so  excessive,  that  the  obli- 
gation to  give  them  is  felt  by  all  but  the  rich- 
est and  most  prodigal  to  be  very  burdensome. 
They  are  often  of  a marvelous  inappropriate- 
ness. We  have  known  a silver  tureen  sent  to  a 
young  couple  whose  prospects  in  life  hardly  in- 
dicated the  probability  of  even  a regular  supply 
of  the  simple  pot  of  soup  which  good  Henry  the 
Fourth  of  France  wished  to  be  the  least  daily 
portion  of  every  one  of  his  subjects.  The  pres- 
ents, with  the  cards  of  the  givers  attached,  are 
sent  some  days  before  the  reception,  that  they 


26G 


MARRIAGE  CEREMONY. 


may  be  displayed  on  the  occasion.  This  public 
show  of  the  donatives  of  the  prodigal  seems  to 
have  been  ingeniously  designed  for  the  purpose 
of  stimulating  the  lagging  generosity  of  others, 
and  thus  keeping  up  a practice  very  grateful,  no 
doubt,  to  each  recipient,  but  exceedingly  painful 
to  most  givers. 

The  ceremony  of  marriage  is  ordinarily  gov- 
erned by  the  ecclesiastical  formularies  of  the  sect 
to  which  the  bride  may  belong,  who  chooses  the 
clergyman  for  its  performance.  The  bride  has 
generally  two  bridesmaids,  and  the  bridegroom 
the  same  number  of  groomsmen,  but  they  may 
be  both  increased.  The  marriage  is  ordinarily 
performed  at  12  o’clock  in  the  day,  at  the  church, 
which  is  first  entered  by  the  bride  resting  on  the 
arm  of  her  father,  uncle,  or  whomsoever  is  to 
‘‘give  her  away.”  Next  comes  the  bridegroom, 
with  the  mother  or  nearest  matronly  female  rel- 
ative. Then  follow  the  groomsmen  and  brides- 
maids, arm  in  arm.  The  immediate  relatives 
complete  the  procession  to  the  altar,  where  the 
bride  and  bridegroom  take  their  places  in  ad- 
vance, with  the  parents  a little  behind,  and  the 
rest  gathered  in  a group  about  them.  The 
bridegroom  takes  care  to  provide  the  wedding 
ring,  and  have  it  in  readiness  at  the  proper  mo- 
ment when  called  upon  to  put  it  on.  He  then 


KISSING  THE  BKIDE. 


267 


places  it  on  the  third  finger  from,  but  not  count- 
ing the  thumb  of  the  left  hand.  When  the  cer- 
emony is  over,  the  question  sometimes  arises 
whether  the  bride  is  to  be  kissed  by  the  bride- 
groom.  We  should  leave  its  decision  to  the  in- 
stinct of  affection  were  we  not  solemnly  warned 
by  a portentous  authority  on  deportment  that 
‘Hhe  practice  is  decidedly  to  be  avoided;  it  is 
never  followed  by  people  in  the  best  society. 
A bridegroom  with  any  tact  will  take  care  that 
this  is  known  to  his  wife,  since  any  disappoint- 
ment of  exjDectations  would  be  a breach  of  good 
breeding.  The  bride  is  congratulated  by  all  her 
friends  in  the  church,  and  elderly  relatives  will 
kiss  her  in  congratulation.”  This  is,  of  course, 
now  settled  beyond  all  peradventure  of  doubt 
by  the  fact  that,  according  to  the  same  author- 
ity, ‘‘The  queen  was  kissed  by  the  Duke  of  Sus- 
sex, but  not  by  Prince  Albert.” 

The  married  pair  then  return  to  the  bride’s 
house  together,  taking  precedence  of  all,  and,  on 
arrival,  assume  a standing  position  at  one  end  of 
the  reception-room  and  await  the  coming  of  the 
invited  guests,  who,  as  they  enter,  are  conducted 
by  the  groomsmen  to  offer  their  congratulations. 

The  conventional  breakfast  or  lunch  closes  the 
ceremony. 

The  dress  of  the  bridegroom  is  regulated  by 


268 


FOKMALITIES  OF  DEATH. 


that  chosen  by  the  bride ; if  she  wears  a whitt 
veil,  he  is  expected  to  appear  in  black  trowsers, 
dress  coat,  which  may  be  either  black  or  blue, 
white  waistcoat,  and  white  cravat ; or,  if  a naval 
or  military  person,  in  full  uniform.  If  the  bride 
should  prefer  to  wear  a bonnet,  the  bridegroom 
should  put  on  a frock-coat  of  black,  brown,  or 
other  tasteful  color,  and  light-colored  waistcoat 
and  trowsers.  It  is  customary  for  the  married 
pair  to  leave,  on  the  day-  of  marriage,  for  a tour, 
and  remain  absent  for  a week,  ten  days,  or  even 
more.  On  their  return  they  expect  visits  from 
all  those  to  whom  bridal  cards  have  been  sent, 
and  the  usual  succession  of  dinners  and  evening 
parties,  after  which  they  lose  their  distinctive 
character,  and  become  incorporated  into  the  vast 
mass  of  ordinary  people. 

The  human  body,  even  in  the  unconsciousness 
of  death,  continues  to  be  the  object  of  a punc- 
tilious observance  of  ceremony.  The  mourning 
relatives  are  usually  spared  many  of  the  painful 
details  of  funereal  civility  by  the  convenient  offi« 
ciousness  of  the  undertaker,  upon  whom  devolve 
the  chief  arrangements  of  the  burial  and  its  at- 
tendant formalities. 

We  have  shown  the  good  taste  in  America  of 
abolishing  the  hired  mutes,  the  emblazonment  of 
the  emblematic  horrors  of  death,  the  skull  and 


LUXURY  OF  WOE. 


269 


cross-bones  on  the  panels  of  the  hearse,  and  all 
that  “ luxury  of  woe”  so  remarkable  in  the  En- 
glish funeral.  We  have  borrowed  from  the 
French  and  the  Germans  the  tasteful  practice  of 
the  use  of  flowers.  This,  however,  with  our  usu- 
al tendency  to  excess,  has  become  immoderate, 
Sind  there  is  often  an  ostentatious  exhibition  of  a 
profusion  of  crowns,  crosses,  hearts,  and  stars  of 
the  rarest  and  most  costly  products  of  the  hot- 
house, which  seem  rather  an  indication  of  the 
exultation  of  wealth  than  of  a regret  for  the 
dead  or  sympathy  with  the  living. 

The  notice  of  a death  and  invitation  to  the 
funeral  are  conveyed  through  the  newspapers 
to  the  friends  and  acquaintances  generally,  but 
notes  are  sent  to  those  who  are  to  serve  as  pall- 
bearers. In  this  country  ladies  occasionally, 
but  in  England  never,  follow  the  procession, 
and  the  female  members  of  the  family  not  sel- 
dom make  their  appearance  in  company  with  the 
male  chief  mourners. 

It  is  now  beginning  to  be  the  custom  in 
America,  as  in  England,  to  send  to  relatives  and 
friends  cards  edged  deeply  with  black,  upon 
which  is  printed  or  engraved  the  name  of  the  de- 
ceased, with  his  age,  place,  and  date  of  his  death. 
These  are  acknowledged  by  letters  of  condolence 
sent  immediately,  and  visits  of  ceremony  after  a 


270 


MOURNING. 


proper  time.  With  a singular  preference  of  de* 
votion  to  fashion,  ladies,  whatever  may  be  the 
control  of  their  emotions  and  disposition  to  per- 
form their  religious  duties,  abstain  from  going 
to  church  before,  and  for  several  days  after  the 
funeral.  The  card,  and  the  letter-paper  and  en- 
velope edged  with  black,  are  used  during  the 
whole  period  of  mourning.* 

* Mourning  should  be  worn,  as  we  are  told  by  a professed 
authority, 

“For  a husband  or  wife,  from  one  to  two  years,  though 
some  widows  retain  their  mourning  for  life. 

“ For  a parent  or  grandparent,  from  six  months  to  a year. 

“ For  children  above  ten  years  of  age,  from  six  months  to 
a year ; for  those  below  that  age,  from  three  to  six  months : 
and  for  an  infant,  six  or  seven  weeks. 

“For  brothers  and  sisters,  six  to  eight  months. 

“For  uncles  and  aunts,  three  to  six  months. 

“For  cousins,  or  uncles  or  aunts  related  by  marriage,  from 
six  weeks  to  three  months. 

“For  more  distant  relatives  or  friends,  from  three  weeks 
to  as  many  months,  according  to  the  degree  of  intimacy.” 

The  servants  are  ordinarily  put  in  mourning  by  those  who 
can  afford  it  on  the  death  of  an  important  member  of  the 
family.  The  nurse  only  in  the  case  of  the  death  of  young 
children. 


APPENDIX. 


So  intimate  now  is  the  intercourse  between  all  parts  of  tho 
world,  that  every  intelligent  person  is  desirous  of  becoming 
acquainted  with  the  social  peculiarities  of  each  country,  and 
all  who  are  well-bred  will  seek  to  comply  with  such  as  are  not 
inconsistent  with  a sense  of  moral  duty.  A sincere  Kepub- 
lican  is  not  expected  to  prostrate  himself  before  an  Eastern 
potentate,  and  crawl  like  a creeping  thing  to  the  feet  of  one, 
whom  he  can  only  regard  as  a fellow-creature,  however  sa- 
cred and  exalted  above  themselves  his  own  subjects  may 
deem  their  sovereign  lord  and  master.  An  American,  if  in 
these  days  he  is  placed  in  such  circumstances  as  would  seem 
to  require  an  obeisance  derogatory  to  human  self-respect,  has 
generally  himself  alone  to  blame.  If,  as  too  often  happens, 
our  countrymen,  impelled  by  their  characteristic  curiosity,  or 
a suddenly  awakened  reverence  for  foreign  majesty,  will  in- 
trude upon  its  presence,  there  seems  no  reason  why  they 
should  be  relieved  from  a payment  in  full  of  all  the  homage 
exacted  from  native  idolaters.  The  American  has  no  right 
to  demand  exemption  from  any  act  or  posture,  however  de- 
grading, be  it  hand  or  toe  kissing,  knee- cringing  or  dust- 
licking, if  he  has  voluntarily,  for  his  own  gratification,  placed 
himself  w’here  such  humiliations  are  exacted. 

There  are,  how^ever,  certain  requirements  which  are  indis- 
pensable in  the  intercourse,  now  so  frequent,  between  the  dif- 
ferent people  of  all  classes  of  the  world,  which  can  be  com- 
plied with  without  personal  humiliation ; and  no  well  .bred 


272 


APPENDIX. 


person,  whatever  may  be  the  practice  of  his  nation,  or  his 
own  individual  opinion,  seeks  exemption  from  them.  Tlie 
various  titles  of  office,  rank,  and  courtesy  are,  by  the  com- 
mon consent  of  the  refined  people  of  all  countries,  conceded 
to  those  who  have  a legal  or  conventional  claim  to  tliein. 
That  these  may  be  exactly  distinguished  and  appropriately 
bestowed,  the  following  statement  is  appended : 


Empekor  or  Em- 
press   

EOYALTY. 

\ Style:  His  or  Her  Majesty  the  Emperor  or  Em- 
f press  of  . 

Addye,s‘,<ied:  Sire  or  Madam ; May  it  please  3’^our 
Imperial  Majest}'. 

King  or  Queen.  . . 

(Style:  His  or  Her  Majesty  the  King  or  Queen. 
< In  England,  frequently  His  or  Her  Most  Hx- 
(.  cellent  Majesty,  etc. 

Addressed:  Sire  or  Madam ; Most  Gracious  Sov- 
ereign ; may  it  please  your  Majesty. 

Prince  or  Pp.in- 

CESS 

BLOOD  ROYAL. 

(Style:  His  or  Her  Imperial  or  Royal  Highness 

< the  Prince  or  Princess  of ; the  Duke  or 

( Duchess  of . 

Addressed:  Sir  or  Madam;  may  it  please  your 
Imperial  or  Royal  Highness. 

Duke  or  Duch- 
ess   

NOBILITY. 

) Style:  His  Grace  the  Duke  of ; or  Her  Grace 

) the  Duchess  of . 

Addressed : My  Lord  Duke  or  My  Lady  Duchess, 
or  Your  Grace;  Madam.  The  eldest  sons 
take,  by  courtes}’,  their  father's  second  title, 
as  Marquis,  Viscount,  etc.*  The  other  sons 
and  the  daughters  have  Lord  and  Lady  pre- 
fixed to  their  Christian  names. 

* Such  titles  by  courtesy  carry  only  the  prefix  of  Honorable.  For 
instance,  the  Hon.  the  Marquis  of  Kildare,  eldest  sou  of  the  Duke 
of  Leinster ; unless  the  person  happens  to  be  a member  of  the  Privy 
Council,  as  the  Eight  Hon.  the  Marquis  of  Hartington,  eldest  son  of 
the  Duke  of  Devonshire. 


APPENDIX. 


273 


Marquis  or  Mar-I  Style:  The  Most  Noble  the  Marquis  or  the  Mar- 
oniONEss / chioness  of . 

Addressed:  My  Lord  Marquis  or  My  Lady  Mar- 
chioness; Madam.  The  eldest  sous  tak^ 
their  father’s  second  title.  The  other  son^ 
and  the  daughters  have  Lord  or  Lady  pre* 
fixed  to  their  Christian  names. 

Earu  or  Count-)  Style : The  Eight  Hon.  the  Earl  and  CountesiJ 

ESS ) of . 

Addressed:  My  Lord  or  My  Lady;  Madam. 
The  eldest  sons  take  the  second  title  of  their 
father.  The  other  sons  have  Hon.  prefixed 
to  their  names ; but  the  daughters,  like  thosq 
of  Dukes,  etc.,  have  Lady. 

Viscount  or  Vis-)  Style:  The  Eight  Hon.  the  Viscount  or  ViscounL 
COUNTESS / ess  of . 

Addressed:  My  Lord  or  My  Lady;  Madam. 
All  their  children  have  Hon.  prefixed  to  their 
Christian  names. 

Baron  or  Baron-)  ^it  Hon.  Lord  or  Lady  of . 

ESS  ) 

Addressed:  My  Lord  or  My  Lady;  Madam. 
Children  have  Hon.  prefixed  to  their  Chris- 
tian names. 

Baronet  or  Style:  Sir  X or  Y,  Bart.  Wives:  Lady  X or  Y. 

Addressed:  Sir  or  Madam. 

{Style : The  same  as  above,  without  the  title  af- 

Knigut  or  Wife  . < ter  the  name,  except  in  formal  documents, 
I when  Knight  is  added.  Wife : Mrs. 

Addressed:  Sir  or  Madam. 

KNIGHTS. 

[Certain  capital  letters  after  the  names  of  noblemen  and  gentle- 
men denote  that  they  belong  to  one  or  another  grade,  as  follow'S :] 


K.G Knight  of  the  Garter. 

K.T Knight  of  the  Thistle. 

K.P Knight  of  St.  Patrick. 

G.C.B. Knight  Grand  Cros^f  the  Bath. 

K.C.B Knight  Commander  of  the  Bath. 

G.C.S.I Knight  Grand  Commander  of  the  Star  of  India. 

K.C.S.I Knight  Commander  of  the  Star  of  India. 

G.C  M G (Knight  Grand  Cross  of  St.  Michael  and  St. 

t George. 

K C M G (Knight  Commander  of  St.  Michael  and  St. 

( George. 

K.B • Knight  Bachelor. 

s 


APPENDIX. 


2 74 


C.B (Companion  of  the  Bath— does  not  confer  the’ 

* ( prefix  of  Sir. 

G.C.H.* (Knight  Grand  Cross  of  the  Hanoverian  Guelph- 

( ic  Order. 

K.C.H.* (Knight  Commander  of  the  Hanoverian  Giielph- 

i ic  Order. 

ECCLESIASTICAL  PERSONAGES. 

Pope Stijle:  His  Holiness  the  Pope. 

Addressed:  Holy  Father;  Your  Holiness. 

Cardinal Style:  His  Eminence. 

Addressed:  Your  Eminence. 

ABcniiisuop  ....  i Style , The  IMost  Reverend  His  Grace  Arch* 

( bishop  of  Canterbury.  Wife  : Mrs. 

Addressed:  My  Lord  Archbishop,  or  Your 
Grace.  .Wife:  Madam. 

T?TQir^T>  (Style:  The  Right  Rev.  the  Lord  Bishop  of  Lon- 

\ don.  Wife:  Mrs.;  Madam. 

Addressed:  My  Lord.  Wife:  Mrs.;  Madam. 

Dean Style:  The  Very  Rev.  the  Dean  of  Westminster. 

Addressed:  Mr.  Dean,  or  Rev.  Sir. 

Aeoiideacon.  . . ....Style:  The  Venerable  Archdeacon  of  London. 
Addressed : Rev.  Sir. 

In  England,  the  members  of  the  Cabinet  and  of  the  Privy 
Council,  and  the  Judges  when  Privy  Councilors,  ha^e  the 
prefix  of  Eight  Honorable  to  their  names ; so  also  the  Lord 
Mayors  of  London,  York,  and  Dublin,  and  the  Lord  Provost 
of  Edinburgh ; but  only  during  their  terms  of  office.  The 
title  of  Excellency  is  given  to  Ambassadors,  Governors  of  En- 
glish provinces,  and  the  Lord-Lieutenant  of  Ireland.  When 
an  English  bishop  or  clergyman  has  the  title  of  Eight  Hon. 
or  Hon.,  it  is  prefixed  to  his  ecclesiastical  one;  but  in  the 
case  of  baronets  and  knights  the  title  “Sir ” follows  the  Eight 
Rev.,  or  Eev.,  as  it  may^be. 

It  may  be  well  to  suggest  that  well-bred  people,  in  the  in- 
timate intercourse  of  society,  avoid  as  much  as  possible  the 
repetition  of  the  titles  of  those  who  have  a claim  to  them. 

* An  order  not  conferred  on  British  subjects  since  the  accession 
of  <^ueen  Victoria,  her  uncle,  the  Duke  of  Cumberland,  having  suc- 
ceeded to  the  throne  of  Hanover. 


INDEX 


Acceptances  of  Invitations,  page  225. 

African  Taste,  83. 

Age — “Growing  Old  gracefully,” 111. 

Autinous  a Rustic  compared  with  Talleyrand,  T3. 

Arsenic,  Folly  and  Danger  of  using  (Note),  30. 

Attar  of  Roses,  114. 

Awkwardness,  Lord  Chesterfield’s  Opinion  of,  75. 

Bacon  a Man  of  Society,  111. 

Balls— Invitations  and  Refusals,  224,  225 ; entering  the  Room,  and 
Conduct  there,  226 ; a polite  Hostess,  226 ; Duty  of  Gentlemen, 
227 ; Social  Offenders,  228 ; Evil  of  late  Hours,  229 ; Visits  after,  229. 

Bankruptcy  caused  by  Love  of  Dress,  168. 

Bashfulness  in  Children,  74. 

Bathing,  the  Necessity  of,  27. 

Beauty— the  Duty  of  Woman  and  Man  to  he  Beautiful  if  they  can, 
20 ; Beauty  defined  by  Brantome,  20 ; how  Women  are  apt  to  re- 
gard it,  20;  none  without  Health,  21;  physical  Causes  of  Beauty 
of  Form,  22 ; American  Style,  25 ; what  it  may  be  attributed  to,  26; 
a Negro  Painter’s  Idea  of  the  Goddess  of  Beauty,  36. 

Belladonna  dangerous  to  the  Eyes,  44. 

Bills  of  Fare,  214. 

Births— Announcements  in  Newspapers,  255;  Visits  to  Parent,  256; 
Children’s  Rights,  256;  Name-giving,  257. 

Blushing,  a Sign  of  Modesty  or  a Nuisance,  109 ; Mauvaise  honte,  or 
false  Modesty,  110. 

Boots  and  Shoes— the  Modern  Shape,  how  they  spoil  the  Feet,  66 ; 
the  correct  Shape,  68 ; iron  Boots  for  deformity,  94. 

Brantome’s  Definition  of  Beauty,  20. 

Breakfast— of  Queen  Elizabeth  and  her  Maids,  192;  of  an  Earl  and 
Countess,  192 ; least  ceremonious  of  Meals,  195;  English  Break- 
fasts, 195;  Table  Furniture,  196 ; serving  Tea  and  Coffee,  197 ; Dr. 
Johnson’s  Fingers  in  the  Sugar-bowl,  197 ; cutting  Bread,  Queeu 
Victoria’s  Practice,  198  ; what  Breakfasts  should  consist  of,  199; 
Breakfast  Costume,  200;  the  Formal  and  Wedding  Breakfasts, 
Dress  for,  204. 

Bridgewater  Treatise  on  the  Hand,  60. 

Brillat  Savarin  on  Gourmandis-m,  27 ; on  Dinner  Guests,  2G8. 

Bunions  and  Corns,  70. 

Burr,  ugly,  but  popular  with  Ladies,  81. 

Caps,  Servants  should  wear,  163. 

Cards— for  Dinners,  208 ; for  Balls,  224 ; Visiting,  239 ; Farewell,  242; 
Marriage,  265 ; Mourning,  270. 

Caudle  Parties,  263. 


276 


INDEX. 


Ceremony— Observances  founded  on  Common  Sense,  9. 

Chair,  how  to  sit  in  a,  103. 

Cheerfulness— Benetits  of,  107 ; Dyspepsia  produced  by  want  of,  107; 
an  Eastern  Apologue,  108 ; the  Walchereu  Expedition,  108 ; Dr. 
Sydenham’s  Advice,  109  ; Lord  Bacon’s  Opinion  of,  109. 

Chemistry  of  Dress,  176. 

Chesterfield,  Lord,  on  the  Graces,15 ; on  Awkwardness,  75 ; his  Short- 
ness of  Stature,  81 ; he  never  Laughed,  105 : his  Opinion  of  One  who 
did,  105 ; Advice  to  his  Son  about  Dress,  158. 

Chignons,  how  the  hair  is  procured,  83. 

Children— too  much  Interference  with,  77 ; proper  Degree  of  Free- 
dom, 78 ; constrained  Postures,  79 ; wholesome  Neglect,  80 ; ugly 
Gait,  how  caused,  88;  Dancing  recommended  by  Locke,  89;  the 
Dress  of,  177;  hardening,  178 ; Dangers  of  Exposure,  179 ; cover- 
ing a Child’s  Body  with  Gold  Leaf,  180;  Difference  between  in- 
door and  outdoor  Clothing,  180 ; Security  in  warm  Clothing,  181 ; 
their  Meals,  202 ; their  Rights.  256 ; Name-giving,  257. 

Chinese  Women,  the  Feet  of,  67.' 

Chocolate  Girl  in  Dresden  Gallery,  the,  162. 

Christening — Ceremony  of,  262 ; Caudle  Parties,  263. 

Church,  Finery  in,  164. 

Cloaks  and  Overcoats,  ISO. 

Clothing,  see  Dress. 

Combs,  pocket-,  indelicate,  112. 

Complexions — the  American  compared  with  English,  25 ; Pallidness 
attributable  to  Diet,  26 ; Health  alone  gives  the  rosy  Tint  to  a 
Blonde,  or  the  ripe  Color  to  a Brunette,  30 ; how  to  obtain  a good 
Complexion,  30 ; Folly  of  using  Arsenic,  30. 

Corns  and  Bunions,  70. 

Courtship,  264. 

Cowper’s  Modesty,  111. 

Crookedness,  a Remedy  for,  95. 

Dancing— recommended  by  Locke,  89 ; unhealthy  Dancing,  90 ; fash- 
ionabie  Dancing,  91. 

Dandruff— the  Cause,  34 ; the  Remedy,  £5. 

Death— Formalities  of  268 ; Notices  of,  269. 

Dejeuner  a la  fourchette,  see  Luncheon. 

Democracy,  affected  Vulgarities  ot;  14. 

Demonstrations  of  Feeling  in  Public,  97 ; common  American  Prac- 
tices, 101. 

Dinner— should  begin  with  Soup ; Sweets  should  be  eaten  at  the 
close,  185;  Coeval  with  Man,  205;  Talleyrand’s  ideas  on  the  im- 
portance of,  205;  the  Dinners  of  Cambaceres,  205;  choice  and 
number  of  Company,  206 ; an  old  Superstition,  207  ; invitations, 
208;  punctuality  essential,  209 ; order  of  precedence, -210 ; an  En- 
glish custom,  210 ; separation  of  Husband  and  Wife,  211 ; advan- 
tages of  an  early  Dinner,  212 ; how  to  appreciate  a Dinner,  213 ; 
when  it  should  be  Served,  214 ; Diner  d la  Russe,  214 ; how  it  should 
be  served,  214;  duties  of  the  Host,  215;  a French  Dinner,  216; 
Lord  Dudley’s  idea  of  a good  Dinner,  216 ; a good  Republican  Din- 
ner, 217 ; rising  from- Table,  217,  220;  Calls  after  an  Entertain- 
ment, 218 ; genteel  Observances,  218 ; a Negro  Waiter’s  perplexity, 
218;  Gloves  at  Dinner,  219 ; attention  to  the  Ladies,  219;  be  not 
obtrusive,  220 ; return  to  Drawing-room,  221 ; taking  Leave,  222. 


INDEX. 


277 


Doctor,  the  use  of  the  Title,  244. 

Domestic  Privacy,  cultivation  of,  150. 

Drawing-room  after  Dinner,  221. 

Dress— Relation  of,  to  Form,  31 ; the  ancient  Greek  Woman,  31 ; tho 
modern  Dame  of  Fashion,  31 ; effect  of  Civilization  on,  155  ; diver- 
gence between  Masculine  and  Feminine  taste,  156 : the  Poet  Gold  - 
smith’s brilliant  Suit,  15T ; the  old  Coat-collar,  157  ; Chesterfield’s 
advice  to  his  Son,  158 ; decorum  in  Dress,  159 ; uniformity  of  Dress 
in  the  United  States,  160 ; Dress  of  working  People,  160 ; in  the 
Kitchen,  161 ; the  Chocolate  Girl  of  the  Dresden  Gallery,  162 ; Caps 
for  Servants,  163 ; Americans  universally  well  Dressed,  163;  Over- 
dressing for  Church,  164 ; simple  Attire  and  Piety,  165 ; Paley’s 
Opinion  on  the  distinctions  of  Dress,  166 ; Girls  entirely  Over- 
dressed, 167 ; what  Overdress  leads  to,  168 ; advantage  of  modest 
Dress,  169 ; Male  and  Female  Manikins,  170  : uniformity  of  Dress, 
171 ; the  Domestic  Slatteni,  171 ; Men  attracted  by  propriety  in 
Dress,  172  ; Fielding’s  Wife,  172 ; economy  of  decorous  Dress,  173  ; 
Hygiene  of  Dress,  174 ; Philosophy  of  Dress,  175 ; Chemistry  of 
Dress — Dr.  Franklin’s  Experiment,  176;  loose  versus  tight  Gar- 
ments, 177;  Summer  and  Winter  Clothing,  177 ; Cloaks  and  Over- 
coats, 180;  black  Coats  and  Hats,  181 ; M.  Rouher  and  the  Paris 
Modiste\s  Servant,  182;  for  Wedding  Breakfasts,  204;  of  Bride  and 
Groom,  267  ; Mourning,  270. 

Drunkenness  banished  from  Society,  231. 

Du  Barri,  the  nez  retrousse  of  Madame,  37. 

Ear,  the— how  it  is  deformed  in  Childhood,  45 ; the  Ear  in  Grecian 
Sculpture,  46 ; complicated  and  delicate  Apparatus,  47 ; Ear-wax, 
how  to  remove  it,  48;  danger  of  Ear-pulling,  48 ; not  to  be  kept 
in  order  in  Public,  122;  Ear-boring  a barbarous  practice,  122; 
process  of  Ear-boring,  124;  how  a Child  was  tortured,  125 ; Ear- 
boring does  no  good  to  the  Eyes,  126. 

Ear-trinkets  a Relic  of  barbarism,  123 ; the  Venus  of  Milo  without^ 
the  Venus  of  Titian  with^  contrasted,  123 ; neither  beauty  nor  tit- 
ness  in  the  practice,  126. 

Ease  of  Americans,  96. 

Eau  de  ColognCj  114. 

Economy  of  decorous  Dress,  172. 

Engagements,  264. 

Expression  and  action,  the  power  of,  73 ; ugly  tricks  of,  80. 

Eyebrows,  the,  41 ; their  union  esteemed  a Beauty  among  the  An- 
cients, 42 ; Michael  Angelo,  and  Tennyson’s  allusion  to  his  Friend 
Hallam,  42. 

Eye-glasses,  their  abuse,  120. 

Eyes,  the— the  glory  of  the  Face,  the  beauty  dependent  upon  health, 
39 ; Short-sightedness,  how  it  is  sometimes  caused,  40  ; the  use  of 
Glasses,  40 ; Squinting,  40 ; how  Squinting  is  sometimes  caused, 
41 ; Eyebrows  and  Lashes  should  not  be  interfered  with,  41 ; im- 
perfect Light  and  weeping  bad  for  the  Eyes,  43;  Black  Pigment, 
44;  les  yeux  cernes,  44;  clouding  the  Eyes  with  Ink,  44;  the  use 
of  Belladonna  causing  the  loss  of  Sight,  44 ; looks  of  shyness  or 
boldness  equally  unbecoming,  116 ; free  glances  unbecoming,  116  ; 
the  assured  look  of  American  Women,  117 ; the  misuse  of  Eye^ 
glasses,  120. 


278 


INDEX. 


Face,  the,  expression  of  under  control,  104  Lord  Chesterfield’s  com- 
posure,  105. 

Falsehood  fiishionahle,  130 ; not  to  be  conceded,  132 ; instance  of  a 
fiishionable  Lie,  132. 

Fashion,  recklessness  of,  174. 

Fatness,  cause  of,  84 ; cure  for,  85;  Iodine  found  useful,  85 ; case  of 
Banting,  85 ; success  of  his  plan,  86. 

Feet,  the — Rarity  of  well  formed  Feet,  66  ; the  ancient  Sandal  and 
modern  Boots,  66 ; the  hideous  Feet  of  Chinese  Women,  67  : high 
Heels  weaken  and  distort  the  Feet,  68;  Madame  de  Pompadour 
exposes  her  bare  Foot,  69 ; Corns  and  Bunions,  how  caused,  and 
how  they  may  be  cured,  70  : ingrowth  of  the  Toe-nail,  71 ; remedy 
for  ingrowth — terrible  operation,  71 ; excessive  Perspiration,  how 
remedied,  72 ; Boots  of  Iron  for  deformity  condemned,  94. 

Fielding’s  Wife,  172. 

Flexibility  of  Limb  distinguishes  Americans,  101. 

Food— abundance  of,  by  perverse  use,  an  injury,  183 ; too  Carnivor- 
ous in  this  Country,' Dyspepsia,  184;  proper  "^variety  of  Food,  184 ; 
experience  of  Good  Livers,  184;  danger  of  higgledy-piggledy  Din- 
ners, 185;  why  Dinner  should  begin  with  Soup  and  close  with 
Sweets,  185;  Restaurants  at  the  Luncheon  hour,  186;  the  atten- 
tion necessary  to  proper  feeding,  187 ; time  should  be  given  to 
eating,  188  ; both  Brain  and  Stomach  must  be  at  ease,  188;  the 
apothegm  of  Sterne,  188;  sociabilitv  an  essential  element,  189: 
protest  against  solitary  feeding,  189  ; Itias  Woman  a Stomach  ? 191; 
noble  Feeders,  192;  the  sly  voracity  of  private  Luncheons,  193. 

Fox,  the  fatness  of  Charles  James,  81. 

Franklin  a Man  of  Society,  111 ; experiments  on  Colors,  176. 

Puss  avoided  by  well-bred  People,  98 ; fatal  to  comfort,  99  ; a fussy 
Housekeeper,  100. 

Genghis  Khan’s  Wife,  her  Nose,  37. 

Gibbon,  his  Nose,  37. 

Gloves  at  Dinner,  219. 

Gold-leaf,  covering  a Child’s  Body  with,  ISO. 

Goldsmith’s  “ suit  of  Tyrian  bloom,”  157. 

Good  Manners  essential  in  this  country,  12. 

Governor,  use  of  the  Title,  245. 

Gregariousness  of  the  American,  148. 

Hair,  the — Female  ingenuity  exercised  about,  32;  how  the  Hair  for 
Chignons  is  obtained,  33;  Dyeing  a preposterous  artifice,  33;  pre- 
mature Grayness,  34;  a simple  Lotion,  34;  Dandruff,  34;  Depila- 
tories are  dangerous,  .35  ; remedy  for  Feminine  Beards,  85;  prac- 
tice of  the  American  Indians,  ,35;  false  Hair  an  Ttgly  Sham,  112; 
too  much  of  the  Barber,  112;  the  Hair  of  the  Young,  112 ; Pocket- 
combs  and  other  filthy  practices,  112. 

Hand,  the— The  Bridgewater  Treatise  on,  60 ; its  beauty  and  utility, 
60;  functions,  61 ; to  be  beautiful  should  be  in  proportion  to  the 
rest  of  the  Bod}’’,  62;  Artist’s  horror  of  painting  Hands,  52;  how 
to  beautify  the  Hands,  63;  the  Half  Moon  or  Lunula,  6S;  how  to 
prevent  Hang-nails,  ^?>  \ Rousseau  and  a Finger-brush,  64  ; biting 
The  Nails  fatal  to  their  beauty,  64 ; snapping  the  Fingers,  64; 
Warts,  64;  how  to  cure  them,  65;  humid  Hands  often  constitu- 
tional-—how  to  relieve  the  infirmity,  65 ; management  of  the 


INDEX. 


2V9 


Hands  in  Company,  143 ; certain  annoying  practices,  144 ; Hand- 
shaking, 145. 

“Hands  off,”  101. 

Hang-nails,  63. 

Hats,  the  ugly  stove-pipe,  181. 

Hawthorne  afflicted  with  mauvaise  honte,  110. 

Host  and  Hostess— Duties  at  Dinner,  215;  at  a Party  or  Ball,  226. 

Hue,  the  Traveler’s,  description  of  the  Feet  of  Chinese  Women,  6T. 

Hygiene  of  Dress,  174;  Children’s  Dress,  177 ; the  Hardening  Pro- 
cess, 178 ; Effects  of  covering  the  Body  of  a Child  with  Gold  Leaf, 
180. 

Infirmity,  personal,  never  alluded  to,  81. 

Ingrowth  of  toe-nail,  71. 

Introductions— English  Reserve,  250 ; Americans  indiscriminate,  251  ; 
the  Form  of,  252  ; Letters  of,  253. 

Intrusivenoss,  Democratic,  146 ; Loyal,  147. 

Invitations — to  Dinner,  208 ; to  Balls,  224 ; Refusals  and  Acceptances, 
225 ; to  Marriages,  265. 

Iron  Boots  condemned  now’adays,  94. 

Israelitish  Noses,  37. 

Judge,  use  of  the  Title,  245. 

Kitchen,  Dress  in  the,  161 ; Caps  should  be  insisted  upon,  163. 

Knees,  Awkwardness  of  stiff,  102. 

Knife,  why  it  should  not  be  put  in  the  Mouth,  or  used  with  Fish,  11. 

Lafayette’s  polite  Salutations,  146. 

Lafontaine’s  Modesty,  111. 

Laughter— Chestertield’s  Opinion  about,  105 ; Advantages  of,  106; 
“ Laugh  and  grow  Fat,”  107. 

Leave-taking,  Etiquette  of,  240. 

l.etters — addressing,  249 ; of  Introduction,  253. 

Locke  on  Good  Breeding,  15. 

Love  of  Dress,  proper  Extent  of,  158 ; improper,  168. 

Luncheon — Ladies’  private  Luncheons,  193 ; the  Etymology  of,  201 ; 
the  dejeuner  d lafourchette  of  the  French,  201 ; when  it  should  be 
eaten,  201 ; thrifty  Housekeepers,  their  Mistakes,  202  ; the  formal 
Lunch,  203;  to  appreciate  a Dinner,  213;  Christening-parties,  263. 

Lunula,  or  half  moon,  63. 

Madam,  Use  and  Abuse  of  the  Word,  244. 

Manikins,  male  and  female,  170. 

Manners — the  Eyes  in  Conversation,  116  ; Familiarity  of  Looks,  116 ; 
the  Libertine’s  Glance,  117 ; free  Manners  of  unmarried  Women, 
117 ; prevailing  Characteristics  of  fashionable  young  Ladies,  118; 
the  Effect  of  fast  Manners  on  Character,  119 ; Effect  on  social 
Morals,  120;  the  Use  of  an  Eyeglass,  120 ; Winking  and  Ogling, 
121 ; a deserved  Rebuke, 121 ; Somnolency  in  Company,  121  ;"Som- 
noleucy  of  Washington  Irving,  122 ; decorous  Swallowing,  140 ; 
ugly  Noises  with  the  Mouth,  140 ; Decency  of  Motion,  141 ; Atti- 
tudini^iing,  142 ; Hand-shaking,  145 ; Lafayette’s  polite  Inquiries, 
146 ; Democratic  Intrusiveness,  146 ; Loyal  Intrusiveness,  147 ; 
Bows  and  Nods,  151 ; Goldsmith’s  “ mutilated  Courtesy,”  153 ; at 


280 


INDEX. 


Dinner,  219 ; in  the  Drawing-room,  221 ; on  entering  a Room,  226; 
a polite  Hostess,  226 ; escorting  Ladies,  227 ; polite  partners,  228; 
social  Offenders,  228 ; Visits  after  Balls,  229 ; Treatment  of  Serv- 
ants, 230  et  seq. ; Etiquette  of  Leave-taking,  241. 

Marlborough,  graceful  Bearing  of  the  Duke  of,  16. 

Massasoit  cured  by  Edward  Winslow,  53. 

Mauvaise  honte,  the  Reverse  of  true  Modesty,  109. 

Mayor,  Use  of  the  Title,  245. 

Mind  and  Body— Pleasure  with  Exercise,  92;  proper  Exercise’  93. 

Mirabeau— his  Nose,  37 ; popular  with  Ladies  despite  his  Ugliness, 
81. 

Morbific  Phase  of  Fashion,  43. 

Mourning,  2G9. 

Mouth,  the— hidden  by  Males,  49 ; w'hat  the  African  Women  thought 
of  Mungo  Park’s  Mouth,  49 ; Xantippe’s  Mouth,  50 ; Suckling’s  De- 
scription of  a Mouth,  50 ; the  proper  form,  50 ; e vil  Effects  of  Rouge 
on  the  Lips,  51 ; Madame  de  Pompadour’s  Lips,  51 ; a Mouth-wash, 
51 ; the  Muscles  of  the  Mouth,  52 ; the  musculus  superbus,  or  proud 
Muscle,  how  sparingly  it  should  be  used,  52. 

Nails,  the — much  of  the  Beauty  of  the  Hand  depends  upon  them,  63 ; 
how  they  should  be  pared,  63 ; how  to  preserve  the  lunula,  or  half 
moon,  63 ; Hang-nails,  64 ; biting  the  Nails,  64 ; Ingrowth  of  the 
Toe-nail,  how  caused  and  how  cured,  71 ; Dean  Swift  and  his  Nails, 
154;  claw-like  Nails  very  ugly,  154;  Inside  of  Nails  should  never 
be  scraped,  154. 

Names — ^Nicknames,  250 ; of  Children,  257 ; prevailing  Names,  259 ; 
Scriptural  and  Patriotic,  259;  how  General  Grant  came  by  his 
Name,  260 ; distinguished  Names,  260,  261 ; neutral  Names,  262. 

Newton  a Man  of  Society,  111. 

New-Year’s  Calls,  240. 

Nez  retroussi,  or  Pug  Nose,  37. 

Nicknames,  250. 

Nose,  the— essential  to  good  looks,  35 ; the  Grecian,  36 ; the  Hotten- 
tot Venus,  36 ; the  Romans,  37 ; the  Tartars,  37 ; the  Wife  of  Gen- 
ghis Khan,  37 ; the  Noses  of  Mirabeau,  Gibbon,  and  Wilkes,  37 ; 
the  Pug,  37 ; the  nez  retrousse  of  Madame  du  Barri,  37 ; the  Nose 
reveals  the  Temper,  38;  scores  Excesses,  38 ; is  the  Organ  of  Smell, 
88 ; its  Formation,  38 ; the  Dog’s  Nose,  39 ; every  Man  has  a Smell 

geculiar  to  himself,  39 ; Instance  of  a Man  without  the  Organ  of 
mell,  39 ; a Lawyer  who  wriggled  his  Nose,  80 ; should  not  be 
handled  unnecessarily,  113 ; Efiect  of  taking  Snuff,  113. 

Odors,  114. 

Otto  or  Attar  of  Roses,  114. 

Overcoats  and  Cloaks,  180. 

Overdressing  of  unmarried  Girls,  167. 

Paley  on  fashionable  Falsehood,  132 ; on  Distinctions  of  Dress,  1G6. 
Park,  Mungo,  and  the  African  Women,  49. 

Peel,  Sir  Robert,  and  the  Letter  H,  127. 

Perfumes,  use  and  misuse  of,  114. 

Perspiration  of  the  Hand,  65 ; of  the  Feet,  72. 

Philosophy  of  Dress,  174. 

Plague,  Eastern  Apologue  about  the,  lOS. 


INDEX. 


281 


Pompadour,  Madame  de,  her  idea  of  Woman’s  chief  duty,  19 : hovi 
she  spoiled  her  Lips,  52  ; her  beautiful  Feet,  69. 

P.  P.  C.,  242. 

Precedence  at  Dinner,  210. 

Presentations,  Royal  and  Republican,  254. 

Presents,  Weddinj?,  265. 

President  of  the  United  States,  his  Designation,  245 ; Presentations 
to,  254. 

Prininess  by  no  means  Graceful,  102. 

Prudishness  of  Speech,  136. 

Queen  Elizabeth’s  Breakfast,  192. 

Quietness  of  Well-bred  People,  98. 

Quixote,  the  Adventures  of,  recommended,  109. 

R.  S.  V.  P.,  225. 

Refusals  to  Invitations,  225. 

Reynolds,  Sir  Joshua,  on  the  Principles  of  Beauty,  36. 

Roman  Noses,  37. 

Rouher,  Mons.,  and  the  Paris  Modiste^  1S2. 

Rousseau  and  the  Finger-brush,  64. 

Russian  Dinner — Diner  d la  Russe,  214,  216. 

Sandals,  the  ancient,  66. 

Scott,  Sir  Walter,  a Man  of  Society,  111. 

Servants,  human  Nature  of,  230 ; how  they  are  generally  regarded, 
230 ; proper  Degree  of  Intimacy  with,  232 ; rude  Treatment  of,  the 
Result  of  ill  Breeding,  233 ; Policy  of  good  Treatment,  234. 

Shakspeare  a Man  of  Society,  111. 

Shortsightedness,  40. 

Sir,  use  and  abuse  of  the  Word,  244. 

Skin,  the,  Structure  and  Functions  of,  27 ; Soap  is  required  to  Cleanse 
it,  28 ; Cosmetics  and  Washes  only  hide  the  Dirt,  29  ; yellow  Spots 
removable  by  Lime-juice,  29. 

Slattern,  the  domestic,  171. 

Snuff,  Effects  of  taking,  113. 

Social  Offenders,  228. 

Sour-krout,  a Duchess’s  Opinion  of,  192. 

Speech— Purity  of,  127 ; Sir  Robert  Peel  and  the  Letter  LT,  128 ; loud- 
ness, 128;  Slang  Terms  in  use,  129 ; profane  Swearing — Pledges  of 
“IFord”  and  “^onor,”  130;  fashionable  Falsehood,  130 ; Paiey  at- 
tempts a Justification,  132 ; danger  of  conceding  the  least  Privi- 
lege to  a Lie,  132 ; instance  of  a fashionable  Liar,  132 ; some  polite 
Lies  that  can  not  be  justified,  133 ; Plain-speaking  may  be  carried 
to  excess,  133;  impertinent  Realists,  134 : the  Baby  that  was  like 
a Flat-headed  Indian,  135 ; unwelcome  Verities,  135;  good  Side  of 
Plain-speaking,  136 ; prudishness  of  Speech,  136;  Sterne’s  “Ac- 
cessory Ideas,”  137. 

Sprawling  on  Chairs  or  Sofas,  97. 

Squinting,  40. 

Sterne’s  “ Accessory  Ideas,”  137 ; Apothegm,  158. 

Strong  Woman,  a,  192. 

Suckling’s  description  of  a pretty  Mouth,  50. 

Summer  Clothing,  177. 

Sydenham,  Dr.,  on  Cheerfulness,  109, 


282 


INDEX, 


Table— Ilow  the  Breakfast-table  should  he  prepared,  19G ; for  the 
Diner  a la  Russe,  214 ; for  the  French  Dinner,  216. 

Talleyrand,  Lameness  of;  SI ; on  the  Importance  of  Dinners,  205. 

Tartars,  the  Noses  of  the,  37. 

Teeth,  the — wholesome  Look  of  white  Ivories,  56  ; improve  a home* 
ly  Face,  56;  Tic  douloureux  and  other  painful  Diseases  caused  by 
neglected  Teeth,  56 ; w'ant  of  Cleanliness,  57 ; Children  should  be 
early  taught  to  clean  their  Teeth,  57 ; not  to  be  used  as  Nut-crack- 
ers, 57  ; why  they  decay,  58 ; Toothpicks,  58 ; Lord  Chesterfield’s 
New-Year’s  Gift  to  his  Son,  58;  the  Tartar,  58;  Soap  the  best 
cleaner,  59;  Tobacco  Smoking  and  Chewing,  59. 

Thinness,  86  ; Cause  and  Cure,  87. 

Tight-lacing,  danger  and  folly  of,  82. 

Titles— unauthorized  in  the  United  States,  243;  use  of  Sir  and  Mad- 
am, 244 ; titular  Addresses,  245 ; Collegiate  TitleS;  when  they 
should  be  used,  246 ; Esquires,  247 ; Female  Dignitaries,  248 ; ad- 
dressing Letters,  249;  of  English  Nobility,  Appendix,  272. 

Tobacco,  effects  of,  on  the  Teeth,  59. 

Tongue,  the— demands  great  Care,  53 ; the  Fur.  53  ; Tongue-scrap- 
ers, 53 ; Dr.  Holmes’s  Anecdote  of  Edward  Winslow  and  Massa- 
soit,  53 ; the  Tongue  as  an  Indicator  of  Disease,  54 ; readily  heals, 
but  is  often  the  Seat  of  dangerous  Disease,  55 ; its  true  Functions, 
55 ; how  it  is  abused,  55. 

Travelers,  English  and  American,  251. 

Turkish  Taste,  83. 

Ugly  Men,  Success  of,  81. 

Venus  of  Milo  in  Comparison  with  a modern  Lady,  82. 

Visiting— a fiishionable  List,  235 ; a fashionable  Call,  237 ; formal 
Calls,  238 ; Cards,  239 ; on  New-Year’s  Day,  240 ; Etiquette  of 
Leave-taking,  241 ; the  President,  254. 

Voice,  the— defects  of  the  American,  138 ; Children  shout  when  they 
should  talk,  139 ; the  Charm  of  a low,  cweet  Voice,  139;  Reading 
aloud  a good  Practice,  140 ; certain  ugly  Noises  by  the  Mouth,  140 
smacking  the  Lips  barbarous,  140. 

Warts,  64. 

Wedding  Breakfasts,  Dress  for,  204.  ^ ^ 

Weddings— Cards  and  Presents,  265 ; the  Ceremony,  266 ; Kissing 
the  Bride,  Queen  Victoria’s  Marriage,  267. 

Wilkes,  his  Nose,  37;  popular  with  Ladles  despite  hi«  Ugliness,  81. 

Winking  and  Ogling,  121. 

Winslow,  Edward,  cures  Massasoit,  5 >. 

Winter  Clothing,  177. 

Working-people,  their  Dress,  160. 

Wriggling  Nose,  80. 

Xantippe,  the  lean-mouthed  Wife  of  SocratcSj  50. 


HE  END. 


lil  iV 

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